Prodigy
by medicgirl
Summary: House hires a young woman who just might be his equal HW friendship, plus OFC
1. To hire a duckling

Disclaimer: Come on! If they were mine, would I really be here? Of course not! I'd be too busy hanging out with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard!

Author's note: This is kind of a little AU, in which Foreman's gone but Chase and Cameron aren't. And my apologies for any similarities between this and my Bones story, "The New Squint". They were the result of seperate stories I made from a ridiculous crossover I tried to write, but couldn't make work. Please let me know if you like it, so I'll know whether or not to continue.

Cuddy had not seen House this excited since he had stopped the clinical funding on that migraine medicine his old rival had come up with. It immediately made her on her guard when he hurried into her office, waving a piece of paper in his hand. "I need your signature on this," he said, placing it in front of her folded so that all that was visible was the signature line.

It was a good try, but not that good. She had been doing this for a while, and could recognize a fund requisition form from a mile away. "I'm not signing this until you tell me what I'm buying. And no, season tickets to the Flyers can NOT be written off as 'mental health expenses'."

He pouted. "But all the violence of the hockey games is soothing to a stressed out doctor!" She seemed unmoved. "It's for a plane ticket and a hotel voucher."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm bringing someone here."

Now she was totally confused. "And this has to do with me how…?"

He was getting impatient. "You wanted me to replace Foreman."

She was surprised. House had to be pressured for months to hire first Chase, than even more for the others. "I wasn't even aware you were looking for another neurologist."

"I wasn't. And this kid's not a neurologist." He pulled a letter out of his pocket and placed it down on the desk in front of her. She scanned it quickly.

"Alex Gray. Why does that name sound familiar?"

"It's been all over the medical journals. This trauma and endocrinology wonder-child is supposed to be the most brilliant thing since Pasteur. And I got that letter a few days ago, inquiring about the position. I said we'd get a plane ticket and hotel voucher her way and get her up here for an interview."

"Her?" said Cuddy, putting things together. "What does she look like?"

House was a little surprised at the question. "What do you mean?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Come on! I saw the nutritionist you tried to slip in. Let me guess: she's 5'10", long blond hair, and a size two waist?"

"Honestly?" House asked. "I have no idea. I've never so much as seen a picture."

Okay, it wasn't for her body. "Then what am I missing?"

House shook his head. It wasn't supposed to be this difficult. "She's perfect for the job." He sat down, sure that this was going to take a while. "She's absolutely brilliant." Cuddy was taken aback. House would NEVER give someone that kind of compliment. He continued. "With proper training, she could be almost as good as me!"

"And 'proper training' insinuates you?"

"Who better?"

Cuddy sighed. "You know we don't pay travel expenses for job interviews."

House stood up. "For this kid, you do."

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"Wilson!" House exclaimed, bursting into the office. "I need you."

A sigh came from the pile of papers House was sure was hiding the oncologist. "I miss you too dear," he replied, "But it's that time of the month." He shoved aside the stack of paperwork he was way behind on. "What is it you need?"

House was way too chipper, almost excited. "I want you to sit in on this meeting."

Wilson looked at his watch. "Oh, yeah. You have a job interview. You want me to be there for the House-to-English translation?"

"It's not a job interview."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's not? Come on, you're not doing this to get a date again, are you? Because even Cuddy saw through the thing with the nutritionist!"

House rolled his eyes. "It's not a job interview because the job is hers. I just have to convince her to settle for the peanuts they are offering for a salary. I just want your thoughts on her."

Now Wilson was intrigued. This was a mystery that would fascinate House, if he could see it from Wilson's point of view. He hated hiring new people, hated dealing with new people, hated change in general. What was so special about this doctor? "Okay…so, you need me for the translation, then?"

House smiled. "If I read this kid right, you won't have to."

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Wilson was on his way to House's office to sit in on this non-interview when his damsel-in-distress radar went off. Just to his left he saw a girl on crutches struggling to get off the elevator. The door had closed on her right crutch, and was caught. He rushed to her aid, prying the doors open with his fingers. When he had opened it enough, she pulled it free and he let go. The doors slammed shut violently. He shrugged. "Sorry. Those doors have problems from time to time. Just a lucky thing that it wasn't an arm or leg."

"Thanks," she said. The girl was trying to get her freed crutch under her, but it had been damaged by the elevator door, and snapped under her weight. Wilson caught her before she hit the ground. She giggled as he helped her steady herself on her feet again. He glanced around self-consciously, hoping to not have to explain to any passers-by why he had his arms around the waist of this obviously underage girl. He may have a reputation as a panty chaser, but he didn't need rumors that he was taking this kid to the prom. Soon she was steady enough on her one remaining crutch, and he got a decent look at her. She looked to be about 16, with curly red hair that wasn't quite shoulder length pulled back in a white cotton headband. An ortho-glass splint covered her left ankle almost to her knee. "It isn't often a white knight shows up just when I need one. Doesn't anyone feed the elevators around here?"

He laughed a little, surprised by her joke. "Can I help you get somewhere?" he asked, picking up the broken pieces of her useless crutch. "I'll go get you a set of aluminum ones from the clinic once you get where you're going. I'm Dr. Wilson, by the way." He extended his hand, and she shook it, leaning heavily on her remaining crutch.

"Alex," she replied. "And I'm just going right up here." She motioned down the hallway, and he fell into step with her awkward gait. It wasn't difficult, given all his years matching step with House, but this was the painful steps of a new injury coupled with the recent loss of half her support. He couldn't imagine what she could be doing on this floor. Unless she had cancer, but she hadn't responded to his name, so probably not one of his. He was still pondering this when she stopped in front of House's office. She gave him a vaguely charming smile, as if she wasn't used to asking for help. "Could you get the door, please?"

It took a second for all of it to come together in his mind. "What did you say your name was again?" He pulled the door open.

"Dr. Alexis Gray. You can call me Alex." She hobbled into the office, a bewildered Wilson a few steps behind.

House was sitting behind the desk playing his PSP, so totally engrossed in his game that he didn't even notice his visitors until she was lowering herself into the chair opposite him, and Wilson the other one. Finally, he looked up as she lost her balance and sat down hard in the chair. "Are you lost?" He asked.

She looked at him carefully for a moment. "No," she said slowly. "I'm supposed to interview with Dr. House. According to the door over there, you are either him or some weird janitor hiding in Dr. House's office. Are you Dr. House, or should I have security paged."

House smiled. "You're Dr. Gray! Wow, you look a lot younger than you are."

Wilson took this opportunity to voice his thoughts. "House, you kept saying 'kid', but I didn't know you meant…How old are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm 24. Yes, I'm young. Yes, I look younger. I'm also a damn good doctor, and I assume that's why I'm here."

Wilson's mouth gaped like a fish. 24? No way! House, however, wasn't surprised. "So," he said, gesturing toward her remaining crutch. "What happened to you?"

"Street hockey," she replied. "What happened to you?" His cane was leaning against the desk.

"Blood clot," he replied just as quickly.

"Ouch," she commented. "Bet mine was more fun."

House hid his grin. He definitely liked the kid. "Did you get the goal?"

"You bet. And the penalty shot, too."

"On a broken ankle?"

"Just a grade 3 sprain. No big deal."

"Not bad. So, let's cut to the chase. Why do you think this is the place for you?"

She shrugged. "You're the best. I'm going to be the best. Logic follows that the best way to get there is for you to teach me."

"Can't argue with that," House replied. "So, tomorrow, 9 a.m.?"

She struggled to her feet, with Wilson's help. "I'll go get you some better crutches," he said, "just wait right here." He disappeared out the door.

Not willing to risk sitting down again, she leaned against the wall. House got a chance to get a good look at his latest fellow. She was tall for a woman, about 5'9", slight, athletic built. "Oh, and you can just dress normal tomorrow," he tossed out there. "You don't have to go out of your way to dress up for this job."

Alex looked down at her new outfit, wondering what gave it away. Scanning her khakis and olive green sweater, she saw it. "The creases in the pants. They're too deep to have been done by a regular iron."

He nodded, impressed. "Yeah, they had to have come that way. Only an industrial iron could have done that, and it's a pretty safe bet that a girl who doesn't wear makeup to a job interview wouldn't own an industrial iron."

She blushed. "I don't wear much makeup…"

"Nothing wrong with that. We have more important things to worry about, here. For instance, can you make good coffee?"

She grinned. "You bet. Wouldn't have made it this far this fast if I couldn't."

Through the glass, they saw Wilson headed their way with a set of aluminum crutches, so she started hobbling toward the door. "Hey, kid!" House called, just before she reached the exit, and she turned, almost losing her balance. "The 'inspected by #14' tag is still on your sweater."

She looked down at the bottom of the sweater, and blushed as she plucked it off. "See ya' tomorrow, boss!"

House grinned as he watched Wilson help her switch out the one weak wooden crutches for the two sturdy aluminum ones. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He definitely liked this kid.


	2. Her first DDX

She was ten minutes late the next morning, struggling with her crutches into the conference room. After a moment of fighting with the door, Chase saw her and jumped up to help. He held the door for her and she flashed him an embarrassed grin. "Thanks. My telekinetic powers are on the blink today. I'm Alex. Alex Gray." She started to offer her hand, then realized that it might just not be the best idea ever. "Sorry," she said. "Best if I don't shake your hand."

Chase nodded. "Yeah. I'm Chase. Robert Chase." He stepped aside and she made her way to her seat."

House rolled his eyes. "And I'm Bond. James Bond."

"Good try, but I met you already," she quipped, taking her seat between Chase and Cameron.

"I'm Allison Cameron," Cameron added. "What happened to your leg?"

"Tried to pretend I had the coordination of a dancer," she said.

"I told you kids you were getting a new little sister. Do you want to do the whole 'get to know you' sleepover now, or can we get back to trying to save this guy?" He was somewhat disappointed in her. First, she was late. And she was actually wearing a lab coat. At least she had on jeans under it. She was scanning the file in front of her carefully, then held up the photograph of the necrotic places on the patient's fingers and toes. Her expression was one step away from confusion. "Are you a little lost, Dr. Gray? We can spell it out for you. See, that file is a _patient_, and we're _doctors_, so…" He waved his cane to gesture at the whiteboard. There was only two symptoms on the board, peripheral necrosis and coughing up blood. So far, there were no suggestions.

"I am a little confused," she admitted. "I thought this was about diagnosing the patient. Why is he our patient, and not Dr. Wilson's?"

Cameron looked at the younger woman in surprise. "We did a biopsy. The necrosis isn't cancerous."

Alex looked up, surprised. "Of course not! I never said they were."

"Well," House said, "Dr. Wilson wouldn't be too happy with us if we sent him a patient that didn't actually have cancer. He claims to be a very busy man…"

Alex was still scanning the file. "He's not going to be very happy anyway. I'm not an oncologist, but I'd say this guy has two months, tops."

"But his wounds ARE NOT cancerous!" Chase stated, getting annoyed at this kid.

She rolled her eyes. "I know that! In fact, I just said that." Chase, Cameron and House were all looking at her like she had lost her mind. "Look, he worked at a sawmill for the last twenty years. He has peripheral necrosis, coughing blood…Didn't anyone get a blood gas or an O2 sat?"

Cameron flipped through the file. "No. Fingers and toes were too necrotic for an oxygen saturation, and blood gases weren't indicated."

"For coughing up blood?!"

"We just got that part," Cameron added. "It happened just once, earlier in the week." No one was following her.

"Okay, tell you what: get a CT of his lungs. Twenty bucks says you find stage four mesothelioma."

"Lung Cancer?!" Chase exclaimed. "Based on one instance of hemoptysis?!"

"No!" she exclaimed, getting frustrated. "This guy says he hasn't seen a doctor in twenty years. The tissue necrosis is probably the result of lowered O2 sat over several years…Oh, just do the test!"

"Wait, a sec," said House, speaking up for the first time. "Are you saying that you want to bet twenty dollars on the outcome of a patient's test?"

She looked up at him quickly, alarmed. "I can't do that?"

"No, you can't do that!" He exclaimed. Chase started to say something, point out the obvious, but House silenced him by raising one finger. "There are rules everywhere, without rules, there would be chaos!" Alex dropped her head, embarrassed, so House decided she had pushed her far enough for her first day. "The minimum bet is fifty."

Her look of embarrassment slowly turned to a grin as she caught what he said. "So, is there a cap on it?"

"Nope. The sky's the limit."

"Make it a hundred, then."

He put the marker down, and twirled his cane. "I'll take that bet. Mesothelioma is a ridiculous diagnosis for this presentation, especially without known asbestos exposure. Necrotizing fasciitis is much more likely. Do a culture for that." He headed for his office, leaving the two older ducklings to get to know their new "little sister".

The three of them eyed each other for a moment, not really sure what to say. Finally, Alex broke the silence, as she struggled to pull herself to her feet. She was really bad on the crutches, and Chase helped her upright. "So," she said, with a smirk. "Fifty bucks says I'm right and House is wrong. Who's in?"

Chase and Cameron looked at each other for a moment, then back at her. In perfect unison, they said "I'm in!"


	3. Bets, beer, and ducklings

House sat at his desk, throwing his lacrosse ball against the wall and catching it in a smooth rhythm, and pouting. Of course, he would deny it to my dying day, but he was. He could not believe that the girl had been right. Not only that she had been right about the diagnosis, but she won a hundred dollars from him. He never lost a bet, and he was never, ever so far behind someone on a diagnosis. Trying so hard to see the train of logic that led his newest, youngest fellow to such an insane diagnosis, he missed the ball completely. It rolled toward the door, and bumped against Wilson's shoes as he walked into the office.

"Making good use of your time, I see," he said dryly. He had heard all about the situation from Cameron, and figured House would be in a petulant mood.

"Sure. What else am I going to do? Seems I hired a psychic doctor. Makes the job much easier. All we have to do is show her the file, she waves her hand over it and gives us a diagnosis, no matter how improbable. It'll save us a bundle on tests and time on differentials."

Wilson couldn't help but smile at that. "You realize that's how us 'mere mortals' feel watching you work?" House scowled at him. "Okay, but she was wrong about one thing. This guy's got three weeks, tops. Not two months." He picked up the ball and tossed it to House, who caught it easily and tossed it back. Wilson hadn't intended to play catch, but if House wanted to act like a ten-year-old there were a lot worse ways to do it. At least this didn't involve a whoopee cushion. "You said she was brilliant. Maybe she's even your equal…?"

House made a face and threw the ball back a little harder than necessary. "She pulled it out of her ass!"

Wilson dropped his hands, effectively stopping the game when he didn't throw the ball back. "Yeah. She just happened to make up the proper diagnosis for a rare form of lung cancer with a completely atypical presentation that just happened to be right to impress her new boss. Admit it, House. She's that good. That's why you hired her!" He could see that blatant truth wasn't the way to soothe his friend's wounded ego, so he threw the ball back. If House wanted to be a ten-year-old, he would just have to be eight. He screwed his face into his most pitiful expression and forced his voice into levels he hadn't reached since he was little Jimmy Wilson, horsing around with his brothers. "I won't share my lunch with her if you don't want me to…"

House smiled at that, but to Wilson's horror he actually seemed to be considering it. Finally, he said, "You damn well better not! There's certainly not enough for all three of us!" He kept a serious face for a moment, until Wilson finally processed this, then they burst out laughing. Speaking of lunch…"

Wilson nodded. "Come on. I've got an hour. Want to go to the coffee shop around the corner?"

House stood to put on his coat. "Sure. Sounds good."

Knowing it was futile, Wilson tried anyway. "You're buying this time."

"Sorry," House said. "Supergirl cleaned me out. Lost a hundred bucks on your new patient." Wilson tried to suppress his grin. About time someone actually beat House at a bet!

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Cameron, Chase, and Alex left the clinic at the same time, and headed back to the office to get their stuff. Alex was slowly adjusting to the crutches, and had only tripped twice today. Once, Chase had been there to catch her before she fell, and the other she was alone in the exam room so no one actually saw her. That was better. She hated for people to see her be clumsy. It was the worst part of being injured.

Cameron held the door for her and she slipped the camouflage-print messenger bag over her shoulder. First step she took, it swung around and hit her left crutch, causing her to step down on her injured ankle. She gasped in pain caught herself on the table. Cameron was at her side instantly, but Chase (having worked with House for so long) was a second or two behind. "Are you okay?" Cameron asked, helping her upright again.

Catching her breath, she forced a smile. "Yeah, fine. Be better when I can walk on two legs again. Thanks."

Chase took the strap of her bag from her shoulder. "I'll carry this," he said.

The three ducklings left the office, one on each side of the new girl. "So," Cameron asked. "How was your first day? Aside from leaving three hundred dollars richer?" They had each grudgingly paid her earlier when the CT had showed the massive tumor growing on their patient's lungs. "What do you think of House?"

She smiled. "My first day was pretty cool. I did what I came here to do, even though it sucks that the guy is dying. But I solved the puzzle, and that's what I have to focus on. That's the fun part, why I wanted to do this." She paused to allow them on the elevator before joining them. "As for House, he's…" She struggled for words. "Not what I expected."

Chase laughed. "I don't think anyone expected House to be like he is, even those who are warned." He studied the two women beside him. "Hey, you two want to go get a drink or something?"

Alex's eyes lit up. "Sounds like fun."

Cameron shrugged. "Sure. Give us a chance to get to know Alex a little."

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Thirty minutes later, they were sitting around a small table at a place called The Pub. It was a small restaurant/bar with an old English theme. House had taken them there one night to mock Chase, so it seemed appropriate. Three glasses of beer were around the table, and they were laughing like old friends. Chase had left his dress shirt and tie in the car, leaving him in khakis and a white t-shirt. Cameron had also lost her outer layer, leaving her in a tight maroon shirt and her black skirt. Alex, however, hadn't even taken off her lab coat.

Finally, Cameron asked her about it. "You don't have to be a doctor at the moment. You can take the lab coat off."

Alex blushed. "I-I uh…get cold easily. And I didn't bring another jacket with me. Most of my stuff is still packed up in Maine. John's driving down the moving truck Friday."

"You're moving all the way from Maine?" Cameron asked. "For this job? Why?"

Alex looked at her self-consciously. "I wanted to work with House. I wanted to meet him. I never thought I'd actually get the job. I-I…heard he was the best."

Chase processed this. "Boyfriend?" Alex and Cameron both turned to look at him like he was speaking Swahili of something. "You mentioned John. He your boyfriend?"

Alex shook her head. "He's my stepdad. He stays with me. I…uh…well, he took care of me when I was younger, so now I owe him."

Chase frowned. That didn't sound right. "Doesn't he work?"

"Of course he works! He…" She trailed off, uncomfortable. "He builds stuff. It's complicated."

He let it go for now. "I've got a jacket in my car you can borrow until yours gets here."

She smiled at him. "Okay. Thanks!" He slipped outside, leaving the girls to talk. "So," she asked Cameron. "Are you two…you know…together?"

Cameron nearly choked on her drink. "What? Me and Chase? No!"

Alex shrugged. "Okay. Just wondering. He's cute."

"He has his moments," Cameron admitted. "She ordered them all another round, and by the time the beer got there, Chase was back with a soft brown leather jacket.

He looked at her slight frame, then at the jacket. "This is going to swallow you whole," he commented, handing it to her.

"No problem," she said. "That'll just make it comfortable."

Chase sat back down and Alex held the jacket, hoping they would get engaged elsewhere and not watch her. They never turned away, so she finally had to change. She slipped the lab coat off, and quickly pulled Chase's jacket on. But not fast enough.

"What in the world happened to your arm?" Cameron asked, gasping at the huge purple-black bruise that covered most of her right forearm.

Trying to look nonchalant, she said, "Same thing that happened to my ankle."

"You never really told us about that, either," said Chase. "What happened?"

"Street hockey," she said. I was playing goalie, and someone took out my ankle. Fell on my right arm." She took a drink of her fresh beer. "So, who's up for a drinking game?"


	4. Hockey, lies, and vengence

Note: Hope you guys enjoy this and the end doesn't inspire too many people. Please read and respond. Reviews make the world go 'round.

House came in Friday morning, and heard the laughter as he got off the elevator. That was definitely odd. No one should be capable of laughing at nine in the morning. The blinds were drawn around the conference room, so he actually had to open the door before he was able to see what the commotion was about. Of all the interesting things he expected to see, the scene before him wasn't even on the list: The table, chairs, and whiteboard had been pushed to the side, and Alex and Chase seemed to be playing hockey.

Two chairs were sitting a few feet apart, apparently serving as a goal, Chase had a hockey stick, and Alex was balanced precariously on one crutch using the other one as a stick to guard the goal. Chase drew back for a gentle slap-shot and hit it toward her. She easily blocked it with the tip of her crutch. "I'm injured, Croc, not crippled! You CAN hit it a little harder!"

House had intended to watch and see how long it took for them to notice him, but he couldn't let that one go. "Did you just call him a croc?"

They noticed him then for the first time, and it was like children caught playing ball in the house. Chase dropped the hockey stick, Alex adjusted herself onto both crutches. "Uh, hi Dr. House. Are you early?"

"No, looks like I'm a little late. You seem to have already chosen teams. Can I at least be the towel boy?" Chase looked terrified, as House limped over to Alex, because he wasn't sure what their boss was about to do. Alex stared him straight in the eye and never even flinched. Instead of anything threatening, he pushed down on the corner of the puck with his cane, and it flipped up to waist level where he caught it easily and looked it over. It was a street-hockey puck, identical to the ones used for ice hockey, with the exception of the round balls which served to make it slide as easily over concrete as one would over ice. Then he flipped it into the air, caught it again, and slid it into his jacket pocket. His hand shot out and he grabbed the crutch Alex had been using as a stick. "Shift off of it. Now!" She did without question, and he snatched it away from her.

"House!" Chase exclaimed. "You can't-"

"It's okay, Chase," Alex said calmly.

"Yeah, Chase," House mocked in a high-pitched voice. "It's okay!" In his normal tone, he went on. "She obviously doesn't need it. Now put everything back where it goes. Croc." He limped off to his office, still carrying her crutch in his hand and the hockey puck in his pocket.

Alex adjusted quickly, and limped over to the edge of the table. "Help me move this back over," she said.

Chase looked at her like she had lost her mind. "Uh…I'll get it. You sit down until I can get your crutch back."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. Let's get this room fixed back before he comes back."

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"You took her crutch?!" Wilson demanded, barging into the clinic room House was hiding in.

House shrugged and repeated what he told Chase. "She obviously doesn't need it."

Wilson shook his head. "You can't do that!"

House put the PSP down. "You know, I think Chase tried to say the same thing. Are you going to start trying to be Chase now? Because if you are-"

Wilson plopped down on the stool and sat facing him on the exam table. "You can't push her like you can them! She's new, she's younger, she's not ready for your particular brand of abuse!"

"She came whining to you?"

"No. Apparently she took it in stride, so to speak. Chase told Cameron, Cameron came to me. Look, I complain about you being verbally abusive to your team, but come on! You really have to draw the line at causing them actual, physical pain!"

"What kind of abuse are you comfortable with her taking? Am I allowed to yell at her? Call her strange names?"

Wilson scowled at him. "I would prefer you treated your team with a smidgen of respect, but as that's obviously not going to happen, then yes, I would be more comfortable if you didn't cause them the kind of pain vicodin would fix!"

"Is she in pain? Does it hurt her to walk like that?" House didn't sound overly concerned, just mildly curious.

"Well, I guess not. Or if she is, she's not letting anyone know."

House spread his hands. "Then what's the problem?"

Wilson dropped his head in surrender. "If she's as brilliant as you say she is, she's not going to put up with this for long."

The nurse opened the door just then and waved a chart at House. "Dr. Cuddy said you'd be hiding in here. She told me to find the most disgusting case I could find and give it to you."

House growled at the nurse, but took the chart. "I'll send him right in," the nurse said with a sadistic grin.

Flipping through the chart, he moaned and looked pitifully at Wilson. "See what I have to go through? This guy has bleeding hemorrhoids! I have to torture my team just to stay sane. So what's up with this? You very rarely get this worked up over me being mean to Chase or Cameron. You haven't got a thing for this kid, have you?"

"I-I-I-WHAT???" Wilson sputtered, shocked. "She's just a kid!! That would be…robbing the damn cradle! How can you-" He was interrupted by a really big man in paint-splattered jeans and a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off to reveal giant forearms covered in seemingly random tattoos. Wilson turned to look at the patient, and had a brief flash of pity for House. Hemorrhoids were an unpleasant enough exam without the patient being a physically frightening specimen. "I…I'll leave you two alone!" He hid a smirk and made a quick exit. Sometimes karma could be a bitch.

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Alex had gotten rather good at getting around on one crutch that day, and to her surprise it was actually easier. But while Cameron had bitched indignantly to Wilson, Chase had broken into House's office and stolen back her other one. She couldn't really throw the act of chivalry back in his face, but she was a little nervous to talk to House with both of them. But Cuddy had sent her to find him, said that she had a patient for them. Oh, well. Time to face the fire.

She knocked on the exam room door. "House? Are you in there?" The sound of yelling leaked through the door to her, and though she couldn't make out what was being said, it didn't seem to be good. She started to open the door, but the door handle was ripped out of her hand as the patient shoved her into the doorframe and pushed past his way out of the room leaving her struggling for balance, and House bleeding from his nose.

By the time he got to her side, she was steady again. Looking at him, she pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket. "Here," she said. "You're bleeding." He carefully blotted the blood from his upper lip, feeling the bruises form. "What happened?" she asked.

He appreciated the fact that she never said the dreaded question, never asked if he was okay. "He wasn't happy when I told him he shouldn't sit on the toilet to read his Playboy collection."

She giggled. "I take it that didn't go over well?"

He shrugged. "Said he didn't read that pervert stuff and I was a freak for suggesting he did. When I said 'Takes one to know one' he hit me. That's when you showed up. Good thing you got your second crutch back. You'd be in the floor otherwise."

Blushing, she wasn't sure how to reply. She didn't want Chase to get in trouble for trying to help. "Yeah, I, uh…broke into your office and got it. Dr. Cuddy wanted me to find you."

He actually smiled. "Tell her you couldn't find me. I hope you do a better job lying to her than you did to me. I hope you at least told Chase thank you." He walked away, leaving her trying to figure it out.

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Chase was doing a crossword puzzle when House limped into the room, and Cameron was making a fresh pot of coffee. "So, Chase once again comes to the rescue of the damsel in distress. You seem to be doing that a lot lately. Could it be that the little alter boy is having incestuous feelings toward his new sister?"

Chase looked up sharply. Cameron's cheeks turned red, and she stood up quickly. "I-I'll go check on the test results!" She bolted from the room even as House yelled after her, "We don't have a patient!"

He turned his attention back to Chase. "So, cat got your tongue? Dr. Gray got your tongue?"

Chase opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. Finally, he settled for the truth. "I just wanted to help her. I didn't want you to be mean to her."

House looked exasperated. "Why does everyone feel the need to protect her? Is it because she's so young?"

Chase paused for a moment, then said, "Maybe. Or maybe it's because she seems so innocent. Like that cute little science nerd from high school. Is she really 24 years old? She looks about 15!"

"Yeah," House confirmed. "Come with me. I want you to read some of her articles. She's not a teenager, no matter how young she may seem or how many pick-up hockey games she cons you into. I have a feeling she's tougher than all of you, way tougher than Foreman was. Like the fact that she not only got the goal she was aiming for when she hurt her ankle but the penalty shot afterwards."

The blond doctor wrinkled his brow. "Penalty shot?"

House moved to his desk and began gathering up journals with articles bookmarked. "Yeah, you know. It's like soccer. When you hurt someone, you get a free shot. Just you and the goalie."

Chase frowned. "I know what a penalty shot is! She told me and Cameron she was playing goalie when she got hurt."

House froze, wheels turning in his mind. This mystery didn't make sense. Or, it did, but he just didn't have all the pieces yet. "Maybe you just misunderstood. A croc like you might not know enough about hockey to understand."

He rolled his eyes. "I think I liked 'wombat' better! And I know what she said!"

They were interrupted when House's pager went off. He glanced down at the display. LOOK OUT AT SOUTH LOT NOW. WHITE TRUCK. AGMD. He scrunched up his brow, confused, and showed Chase the message. He nodded toward the window, and they both moved over to look out. "There's Alex," Chase pointed out, seeing a redhead on crutches at the edge of the parking lot. "And there's the truck!" A beat-up white pickup truck was speeding erratically out of the lot, and upon closer inspection, House realized it was his hemorrhoids patient. What the-

Suddenly, something in the back of the dirty truck exploded, splattered blue goo all over it. Garbage from the truck bed flew in all directions, and the driver swerved and almost hit a passing car. He immediately slammed on his brakes and got out to see what the hell happened. Alex grinned up at House from the ground and gave House a thumbs-up. He returned it, and he and Chase looked at each other. "What the bloody hell did she do?!" Chase asked.

A proud smile spread across House's face. "Aluminum foil and toilet cleaner. Takes a few minutes to go off, but makes one hell of an explosion. That guy gave me some trouble in the clinic. Alex walked in on it." Chase and House looked out the window at Alex first, then at the freaked-out driver of the truck, and burst out laughing.

When House got straightened up, he pointed to the door. "Go find her. Tell her to come up here, and then she can go home to help her stepdad unpack." Chase turned to go, when House called to him. He turned around and House threw the hockey puck at him, harder than necessary. Fumbling with it, he dropped it, and picked it up, looking at House questioningly. In response, House simply said, "Tell her you stole it back from my pocket when I was watching the explosion."

Chase smiled.


	5. Really Screwing Up

A/N: If you get confused and think they are mine, see disclaimer in Chapter 1. Only Alex is mine. Please review! I'm addicted, and we've all seen how bad withdrawal can be!

The first place Alex went when she arrived at the hospital her first day without crutches was Cuddy's office. She knocked tentatively, before the older woman's voice bid her to come inside. The dean of medicine looked up from her paperwork to smile at her newest and youngest fellow. "Dr. Gray. What can I do for you? Is House giving you problems? Please, sit down." Alex made her way to the chair with a natural grace that had been hidden by her injury until now, and Cuddy got her first look at the young doctor since her first day. "Dear God! What happened to your eye?" Even with House's antics, it was defiantly an odd sight to see one of her doctors come in with such an impressive shiner.

Unfortunately, she was still unsure of herself talking to the head boss. "Walked into a door. That's when I knew I had to ditch the crutches. And no ma'am, House is a great mentor. I just…uh…"

"House? A great mentor? Are we talking about the same Dr. House?" Cuddy looked at her with a wry smile, trying to ease the young woman's nervousness.

Alex returned a nervous smile. "Well, he's a little unorthodox, but it works for him. And he's good enough to pull it off. No, I'm not here about House. It's mare of a…well, I don't know. I don't know what the policy about this kind of thing is here, but I was wondering…"

She trailed off, trying to find the words, and Cuddy decided to try to help things along. "Does this have anything to do with Chase?"

Alex's eyes widened. "No! Why would it have anything to do with Dr. Chase?"

Cuddy looked horrified. "I just thought…Well, I've heard the rumors that you two were…involved…and when you asked about policy…"

Alex blushed. "No. And Dr. Chase and I are NOT 'involved'. We are just friends. Nothing more."

Nodding quickly, Cuddy said, "So, now that I've embarrassed us both, what did you want to ask?"

"I was wondering if it would be possible for me to pull a few shifts in the ER. My first specialty is in trauma and emergency medicine, and it's what I really love, and like I said, I didn't know if it was against policy or anything, and well…" She ducked her head. "I kinda miss it."

Cuddy was somewhat appalled at how much this young doctor made her feel maternal. The question was out before she even realized it. "Just how old were you when you graduated med school?"

"Huh?" She looked up again, confused. "Does that matter?"

Cuddy smiled. "Not really. Just wondering. Yes, we can definitely use you in the ER. It's always short-staffed. But you will also have to be on call for transports and stuff. It comes with the job."

"Like clinic duty?" Alex grinned, and effectively looked ten years younger than she was and Cuddy found herself laughing.

"Yes, like clinic duty."

"Like on the helicopter, and going to scenes and stuff? I'd love that! I was an EMT when I was finishing med school, and I loved it. Call me any time for that stuff!" She stood up, and was about to go. "Thank you ma'am."

"Please, call me Lisa. Or at least Cuddy. Ma'am makes me feel ancient. _Not like this kid being a doctor doesn't already!_

"Yes, ma'am…uh, Dr. Cuddy. Thank you."

She actually paused and thought this question through before it came out. "Dr. Gray, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied.

"If trauma and ER is what you love, why did you take a job in diagnostics?"

Alex smiled a true smile, not her usual embarrassed flush or mischievous grin, and answered honestly. "I wanted to work with Greg House." Cuddy didn't have a reply for that one, so she headed for the door. As she opened it, she turned back. "Eighteen."

"Pardon?" Cuddy looked back up.

"I was eighteen when I graduated med school. Columbia, class of 2000." With that, she was gone.

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"You guys are going to love this!" Alex exclaimed, bursting into the conference room, lab report in her hand. "Tested positive for isopropyl alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and chlorine bleach."

Cameron dropped her (thankfully empty) coffee cup. "All three of them?"

"Wow," said Chase. "Didn't see that coming!"

House merely looked up at his newest minion. "Any thoughts on how that happened?"

She plopped down in the nearest chair, her expression unreadable. "Well, my best guess would be that she drank carpet cleaner. There's no way it could have been accidental."

"And no way someone made her do it," Chase added. "We've asked her a hundred times if she knew what happened."

"Everybody lies," Alex put in, her voice flat in eerie similarity to House's.

"Which means she didn't want us to help her." He finished. "Well, we just need to get her to surgery to fix the ulcer, and take care of the vomiting blood and the collateral damage."

"Why?" asked Alex.

The room fell silent, and Chase looked confused. "Why? Uh…because vomiting blood is a _bad_ thing?"

Alex shrugged. "So? She did it to herself. If she thinks she's pitiful enough to attempt suicide –and _fail_ at it, by the way- she should just have to suffer through the consequences!"

"Alex!" Cameron exclaimed. "How can you say that?! This girl needs our help, and you want to judge her? That's not only unprofessional, it's…it's…inhuman!" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the younger girl.

Alex stood to her full height, towering over Cameron by several inches, and looked down at her. "If people are so selfish that they just want to quit, abandon everything, then why should we bust our asses to fix them up so they can try again?"

Cameron, not in the least intimidated by the taller woman, took a step closer. "You don't know what she's been through! You have no right to judge her choices! Who do you think you are?!"

Not to be outdone, Alex took a matching step forward so that she was standing face to face with Cameron. "And if she doesn't care about the ones she's leaving behind, she has no right to live without pain!"

Chase darted between them, trying to calm things done a little, but both girls in perfect unison planted a hand on his chest and shoved him backward. He stumbled, and fell on his butt. House smirked, but made no effort to break up the squabble. "At least you agree on that!"

"What is going on in here?!" Wilson demanded, slamming the door open. "I'm used to shouting from in here, but I haven't heard House yelling. So something's definitely wrong." He looked at the two women standing face to face. "Well. Didn't expect that." Turning to House, he said, "Care to explain?"

Alex saved him the trouble. "Florence Nightingale here doesn't agree with my assessment of the situation."

"And Dr. Kevorkian here thinks we should just let our patient suffer!" Cameron added.

"And I bet fifty bucks on the redhead." House had to put his two cents in.

Chase decided to translate. "Our patient tried to kill herself. Alex said she didn't see the point of trying to fix her. Cameron says that's unprofessional. Alex said if she didn't care about those left behind, she deserves to live with the pain."

Wilson frowned. "She tried to kill herself? I don't understand the argument." He walked closer, trying to close enough to the girls to stop them if someone was to break the stalemate. He got as far as behind Alex when he spoke again. "She's here, so it's your job to treat her, not analyze her, that's for the guys on the sixth floor." He put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Alex's shoulder. "The people left behind don't matter."

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion, but no one in the room had enough warning to do anything to stop it, especially not Wilson. The girl's fist connected with his jaw in a vicious left hook that knocked him backward into the glass wall. He hit and slid to the floor, unconsciously putting one hand up to protect himself from further blows and the other rubbing his jaw. Pain and confusion were clearly visible in his brown eyes. '_Damn,"_ was his only thought,_ "she hits like a man!"_

No one said a word, or gasped, or was able to breathe. Alex looked down at Wilson with anger and hurt. "They matter!" And just like that, she was out the door.

Cameron's mouth was opened in a wide "O", her eyes just as wide. She and Chase stared down at Wilson, who wiped a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his lips and gingerly touched the already-forming bruise that would soon outline the whole bottom of the right side of his face. "What the Hell…?" He asked, shocked.

House was the first to totally recover. "Chase, go after her. Calm her down, and find out what the hell that was all about. Then send her to the ER for the rest of the day. Give her a chance to cool off. Wilson, get out of the floor and sit in a chair so I can see if little Miss Rocky broke your jaw or not."

Chase was off, and Wilson, still dazed, pulled himself to his feet and moved to one of the chairs. Cameron simply stared. "What do you want me to do?"

With more venom than he could rationalize, even to himself, House shot back, "You were the one who was all about the patient! Go fix her and call the little men in white coats! And call the cafeteria and tell them to stop putting the real silverware on her tray!" She started to walk out in a huff, but House's voice stopped her. "But first, go to the nurse's desk and get an ice pack for Wilson. Without telling anyone what happened!"

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Chase searched for twenty minutes before he found her, huddled under the back of the ground floor staircase, crying. He dropped to his knees beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, and realized only a second too late that it might not be a good idea to startle the girl who just punched Dr. Wilson. She jerked her head around and checked herself before she landed her second punch of the day. Chase jerked back and covered his face. "Don't hit me! I'm just making sure you're okay!"

She dropped her head back down quickly and tried to hide her tears. "I'm fine. Go away."

Chase pretended to think it over. "Um, well…no, I don't think so." He sat down beside her. "Look, Alex, maybe I've been kidding myself, but I'd like to think we've become friends over the past four weeks, but if you don't feel the same…" he trailed off, and he had her attention again.

"No, I do! You and I have become… friends, like you said, and I don't make friends easily. But I guess that's over now." She stared off to the side.

He put a hand on her cheek and turned her back to face him. "Because you hit Dr. Wilson? He and I aren't that close!"

"Because I'll be fired. Or maybe brought up on charges. Either way, I'm done here, right? If nothing else, I hit my boss's best friend!"

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Cameron brought back the ice pack and found Wilson sitting right where he had been and House doing something on the computer. She walked over to Wilson, knelt down and placed it gently on his jaw. He winced as the cold plastic touched his skin, then closed his eyes and relaxed as it eased the pain. "Thanks," he said to her.

"Oh, Dr. Cameron!" House began mockingly, with a trace of anger underlying his words. "Remember what you said about not knowing what someone else has been through?"

"Yeah," she replied, wondering where this was going.

House turned the computer screen around to show her and Wilson a newspaper excerpt. The headline was dated June 1st, 1998, and read_** LOCAL WOMAN FOUND DEAD**_. Wilson was on his feet instantly, coming closer to read what had House's interest, and Cameron took a few steps closer. It went on to explain that Samantha Gray, age thirty-four had been found shot in the head, .38 caliber pistol inches from her hand. She was found by her daughter, Alex, 15, local well-known college student.

The article continued, stating that Alex was a local genius, and that she had just graduated with a bachelors degree in biology and was going to Columbia medical school in the fall, but the three doctors had read all they needed. "Oh, shit!" House muttered.

Wilson put his hand over his eyes. "No wonder she hit me!" he exclaimed.

Cameron sat down hard into the nearest chair. "She was left behind by someone who killed themselves. And I called her unprofessional for it!"

"Kinda makes you think about the whole 'Don't know what they've been through' thing, doesn't it?" Asked House.

"You called her unprofessional," Wilson interjected. "I told her she didn't matter!" He looked up at Cameron's devastated expression, and House's angry frown, then back to Cameron. "We really screwed up."


	6. Patching Things Up

Chase contemplated going after her again, but decided she needed a few minutes alone. When he had waited long enough to realize she wasn't coming back, he extricated himself from the cave-like space and returned to the office. Cameron was gone, but House and Wilson were staring at the computer screen. Wilson was still holding the ice pack to his face, but it no longer completely covered the bruise. "Mother of God," Chase muttered, studying the damage. "She packs a wallop!"

"Yeah, well, I deserved it," said Wilson, looking up at the Aussie.

"So…you've figured out what set her off?"

Wilson pointed to the screen, and Chase scanned the obituary. "Wow," He said with a wince. "That…" he trailed off, not able to think of a tactful way to finish the sentence.

House looked up at him witheringly. "I believe the word you're looking for is 'sucks'. You'd think you Brittish people would pick up at least a little f our slang!"

Chase gritted his teeth, but let it go. He had a lot bigger issues right now than House insulting his nationality. "She thinks she's going to get fired. Is she?"

"What?!" exclaimed Wilson. "No!" Then he paused. "Right, House?"

"Are you kidding? This kid's gonna be a great bodyguard. Definitely gotta keep her around."

Wilson put down the ice pack and stood. He was still slightly dizzy from the blow, so it took him a second. When he had gotten his balance, he looked at Chase. "Come on. I have to find her and apologize."

Chase looked confused. "And you need me for…?"

House answered for him. "He might need a human shield. Cameron's off on the petty task of saving the patient, and it would be politically incorrect to use the cripple, so that leaves you."

Wilson shrugged. "And she's less likely to hit you."

Chase smirked. "Okay. But she ran off, and I don't know where she w-"

He was cut off swiftly as Cuddy burst in, eyes flaming. "What the Hell did you do?!"

House was startled. "Nothing, this time! What do you-"

"Not you!" She added, and turned to where Wilson stood. "You!"

Wilson's eyes widened, and he was unable to come up with a suitable response. So he settled for gaping like a fish while House backed him up. "Wow, this is a switch," the older doctor said. "It's like the Twilight Zone or something. So, from your tone, I take it you found our renegade doctor?"

Cuddy turned back to House, eyes cold. "If you mean Dr. Gray, then yes. She burst into my office, tears still wet on her face, and told me she resigned." House and Wilson shot identical looks of disbelief at each other, and Chase opened his mouth to speak, but she simply held up a hand. "My first thought, of course, was 'What has House done now?', so imagine my surprise when she tells me that she's quitting before I can fire her because it'll be better on her record. Finally, after several minutes of talking in circles with a hysterical and emotionally unstable girl, I manage to get out of her that she punched Dr. Wilson." She crossed her arms. "Now, she doesn't seem to be the type that goes around hitting innocent oncologists, and she wouldn't tell me what you did, so I'm asking you." The stare she was giving them left no room for argument, and Wilson squirmed under its intensity.

Finally, Chase spoke up, sparing Wilson the discomfort of having to tell the whole story. "Alex and Cameron were arguing, and Wilson stepped in. He said something meant to be comforting, and due to something he didn't know, it was very upsetting. He didn't know he was saying something hurtful, but from her point of view it justified hitting him." Wilson stared at the carpet, nudging a piece of dirt with the toe of his loafers.

Cuddy took this in, and sighed. I guess none of you are going to tell me exactly what was said, are you?" She looked at Wilson, who finally had to look up as he felt her gaze burning into him.

"I'd prefer not to, just because it's personal to Alex. I hope you won't make me." He straightened a little, and looked for a moment like a young boy who had broken his mother's vase playing ball in the living room. "I swear, I didn't mean to upset her, or hurt her! I thought it was the right thing to say!"

Cuddy shook her head. "As I don't know what was said, I can't judge that. Chase, did it seem like the right thing to say?"

House interrupted. "Does his jaw look like it was the right thing to say?!"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Chase, before she hit him, did it seem like the right thing to say?"

Chase nodded quickly. "Yes. It was a perfectly normal thing for a more experienced doctor to say to a younger doctor in that situation."

She sighed. "Okay. James, she's in my office. Go. Apologize, offer to buy her dinner, hit her back, I don't care! Just fix it!"

He nodded, and headed out of the office, rehearsing in his head. "Hey!" House yelled as he hit the door. When he turned back to look at his friend, House put his hands up in a fighting stance. "Keep your right hand up a little more. You gotta be ready for the next one."

Using his left hand to shield the gesture from Cuddy, he flipped House his middle finger with his right, then left the diagnostics office.

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Alex was pacing the length of Cuddy's office, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had really messed up this time. All her life she had been in control of herself, and just in a split second, she had destroyed everything. She had lost her job, her fellowship, any chance she had of Gregory House respecting her, and…well, she had assaulted another doctor! People went to jail for less every day!

Dr. Cuddy refused to accept her resignation. Told her she was going to go find out what happened. So any minute now, she would be back, and House or Wilson will have told her all about it, and Alex only hope she would still accept her resignation rather than firing her. And that she didn't call the police. Maybe she already had. Maybe they were on their way now…

There was a knock on the door, and her heart tripled its rate. Maybe this was them now! Cuddy wouldn't knock at her own office. She couldn't go to jail. John wouldn't bail her out, and she couldn't afford a lawyer without him and…The train of thought stopped dead as the door opened to the last person she expected to see. Dr. Wilson stepped inside, the bruise twisting her heart in a way it had no right to. It was more than guilt. It actually hurt her a little that she had caused him pain. He must be looking for Dr. Cuddy. Of course. That was it.

"I-…She's not here," Alex stuttered. "She's…looking for you." Her eyes studied his face, and was upset at the fear and hurt she saw there, and her words got away from her. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Wilson! I just lost my head, and I didn't mean to h-" She stopped dead, taking a breath and tried to will away the tears she felt forming. Trying again, she said, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

His eyes drew down in a look that could either be anger or hurt. "And I never meant to hurt you either," he said, taking a step toward her. She involuntarily took a step back, and he winced. "Let me try again. Alex, please sit down and talk to me." She eyed him warily, unsure. "Please?" he added.

The possibility that it was anger on his face disintegrated, and he just looked pitiful. She couldn't refuse him. "Okay," she said, sitting on the couch against the wall.

He took in her nervousness. "Can I sit with you?" she nodded slowly, unsure, and he sat on the couch beside her, enough space that they could face each other. Finally, he made himself speak. "Alex, I'm so sorry! I never should have said that. It was insensitive and callous and cold and…" he trailed off, unsure how to go on with it. "I'm just sorry. Please don't be mad."

Now it was her turn to be confused. "Don't be mad? Dr. Wilson, I hit you! You should be the one who's mad! I'm sorry!"

"Hey, it's okay!" he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, feeling a twinge as she flinched at his touch. She didn't think he was going to hurt her, did she? "It's okay, Alex. I deserved it." She relaxed under his hand, and he risked drawing her a little closer. What was it about this kid that brought out every protective instinct he had? "I'm not mad, and it's okay."

She jerked back from him and sat straight up. "You know!"

He flushed guiltily. "I know now. But I swear I didn't know then! I never would have said that if I had known." He stared until she met his eyes, then continued. "It was just doctor talk. I didn't mean it and I don't think that."

She nodded. "I know. You meant it from a diagnostic point of view. For my job, they don't matter. You were right, and so was Cameron. I just…freaked out. It WAS unprofessional, but not near as bad as hitting you." She truly looked miserable, and Wilson tried one more time to pull her into an embrace. This time she allowed him to, and she tried to hold back the tears.

"Are we okay?" she asked into his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said. "Forgive me?"

She nodded. "Forgive me?"

"Definitely!" He said, and she sat up. She wiped her eyes and tried to cover the gesture by adjusting her headband. For some reason, it bothered him that she was trying so hard to be strong. He wished he could see what was going on inside her head. "You know, if you ever want to talk about it…"

She made a face that seemed way too familiar to Wilson. "I appreciate that, but no thanks. I don't do the whole 'please talk, it'll help' thing. There's nothing I can tell you or that you can tell me that will 'fix' the past. And it IS the past. My life now is now, and I was just a kid then."

Wilson smiled at her. "You don't have to always be so strong, you know that right?"

"Yes I do," she replied, all joking gone. "I'm young, and I look younger. No one takes me seriously as a doctor. If I start having emotional breakdowns every other day, I won't have a chance!"

Wilson nodded. "I understand. It was that way for me when I first got started. I looked too young, spoke too softly, just didn't have the attitude people thought I needed."

"Were you some kind of prodigy, too?" She said the word like it was a horrible disease, and he realized it had probably been thrown at her like that her entire life.

"Not really. Just…young. But you are a good doctor, and you are liked around here. It may take some time to get past the whole 'prodigy' label, but soon you won't be such a novelty. You'll just be another good doctor in this hospital." She smiled, and he went on. "And for what it's worth, I respect you."

Her expressive blue eyes showed her doubt, showed that she thought he might be saying what she wanted to hear. "For real?"

He nodded emphatically. "That lung cancer catch was amazing. The few cases like that there have been were only caught on the autopsy."

"For all the good it did," she replied. "Is he still alive?"

As badly as he hated to, Wilson shook his head. "No. He died last week."

She nodded. "I thought so." She stood up. "I should probably get back to work. So, we're good?"

"Yeah," he replied. "We're good."

They were on their way out the door when she stopped. "How did you know about my mom?"

"House found it. Found her name in your file, saw deceased, looked it up." A brief moment of fear jumped into her eyes, and he was quick to reassure her. "Don't worry. He can be an ass, but he's not blatantly cruel. He won't use it against you." He put a hand on her shoulder. "And if he does, you tell me. I'll take care of it for you." She made a face. "Okay," he amended with a smile. "You tell me and I'll tell you just exactly how to make his life Hell, how's that?"


	7. The plot thickens

House promptly sent Alex to the ER as soon as she got back to the office, brushing off her attempts at apologizing gruffly, making comments about how someone had to keep the oncologists in their place or they would take over the world. He didn't seem too angry, just his usual self, and Wilson had forgiven her, so she was actually smiling by the time she made it to the emergency room. The only person she still had to apologize to was Cameron, and that could wait. She didn't know whether or not Cameron knew about her mother, and if not, she wasn't looking forward to explaining.

The ER was jumping, as usual, and she was only there a few minutes before an ambulance brought in a man who had been stabbed. She quickly lost herself in the simple motions of trauma assessment, determining what was damaged, what could be fixed, what couldn't, repairing what she could and sending the patient up to surgery so the lacerated spleen could be removed. She smiled as she shed her blood-proof gown and red-splattered goggles. This was the place and the mindset that best allowed her to think. The easy, practiced motions of trauma repair were more muscle memory than something that required focus, so she could usually ponder out any problem, given enough carnage. However, there were just certain problems that just had no answer.

Leaving the trauma room, she literally ran into Cameron. The smaller woman lost her balance and fell to the floor. "Oh, God!" said Alex, helping her to her feet. "I'm so sorry! I was…uh…just going to look for you."

Cameron smiled, slightly flushed, as her young colleague helped her regain her footing. "Yeah, I needed to talk to you. Can we go back in there, or is there something going on in there?" She motioned for the trauma room.

Alex nodded. "Sure. Sent the patient up to surgery already."

Cameron noted the bloody gown and goggles in the translucent biohazard container. "Is he going to make it?"

"Yeah. Lost his spleen, needed several units of blood, and I bet he'll think twice before he cheats on his next girlfriend, but he's going to be okay."

The patient update out of the way, there was nothing left but the words they both felt like they needed to say. Alex opened her mouth to start, but was relieved when Cameron raised her hand. "No, let me go first. I'm sorry. I got a little obnoxious and self-righteous and you're entitled to your opinion and I shouldn't have been so judgmental." Her eyes dropped to Alex's black rubber clogs. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what you went through."

Bloody hell! Did everybody know? "Did House put out a memo or something?" she muttered.

Cameron smiled. "I was there when he found it. Me, House, and Wilson. If you don't want it to, it doesn't have to go any farther."

Alex shrugged, uncomfortably. "It's not that I'm ashamed of my mother or anything. I just…" Cameron's eyes softened, and Alex noticed. "That's it right there!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you feeling sorry for me. I don't need pity!"

Cameron immediately stepped back. "I'm sorry. I just…"

Alex shook her head. No, I mean…" She tried to explain herself, but there were no words that suited the situation. "Look, do you think we could just forget this ever happened? Pretend I'm perfectly normal and I didn't get irate with you and I didn't punch Wilson and stuff?"

Cameron finally smiled. "Yeah. We can do that. But can I say one more thing?" Alex grimaced, but nodded. "I understand now about your stepfather coming with you. He was there for you, and now that you're the adult you want to take care of him, right?"

Alex wanted to tell her the truth so badly, but she knew better. Biting her tongue, she simply nodded again. "That's it," she said. Their pagers went off simultaneously. Alex grinned as she looked up, all other issues forgotten. "We got a patient!"

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The next few weeks passed very quickly for the team, as one patient after another was in need of their particular skills. They diagnosed a boy with Rocky Mountain Spotted fever, a woman with a particularly odd allergy to wheat that made her turn purple all over, and even a case of Lupus. They worked sometimes twenty hour days, or even two days at a time. Alex volunteered for most of the all-nighters, to the point that Chase started volunteering first, just so she would go home and get some sleep, and even House started saying no when Chase couldn't volunteer quickly enough. Finally, after three solid weeks of working themselves to death, the team disbanded at midnight without a patient.

House paced around the table his ducklings sat around as he gave the recap, berated them for not finding the answer sooner, then in his own silent way let them know they did good. Then he told them to get the hell out of there and get some sleep. But to be on time the next morning, even if they knew that he wouldn't be.

Cameron slipped on her jacket, gathered her purse, and yawned on her way out. Chase stood up, rolled his shoulders to ease the weeks' worth of tension that had built up in the aching muscles. He picked up his bag, and turned to see if Alex was awake enough to drive or if she needed a ride, but the answer was obvious. The youngest duckling was fast asleep, head cradled in her arms on the table, her iPod headphones in her ears. He reached forward to take them out of her ears before House saw them and got mad at her for listening to it during a meeting, but he heard a gruff voice behind him. "Leave her alone. Let her sleep."

He spun quickly to see House standing behind him in the door of his office. "How's she going to get home?" Chase asked.

House shrugged. "I'll take her. You go home. I still have some stuff to do, and she can sleep there for a while." He turned and limped back into his office, shutting the door quietly.

Chase looked once more at the sleeping girl, smiling as she shifted a little. She looked even younger in her sleep than she normally did. As badly as she needed the sleep, he couldn't bring himself to wake her. He left his friend asleep on the table, and headed home for some well-deserved rest.

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It was eight in the morning when Alex woke up with a start, her neck and shoulders aching from the position they had held for so many hours. She glanced around her, saw House curled up in the floor beside his desk, his jacket for a pillow. Staggering to her feet and stretching, she scribbled a quick note to House and the others saying she was going home to shower and change clothes. She smiled at her grouchy boss, curled up in the floor like a little kid who was up past his bedtime. Then it occurred to her that he must have taken several vicodin to be able to sleep like that on the hard floor. She watched his chest rise and fall, counting his respirations. Sixteen in a minute. He was fine. Let him sleep. She quietly got her purse and left.

At eight o'clock, Chase knocked in the apartment door in a rather rough neighborhood. When there was no answer, he knocked louder. If House drove her home last night, Alex would need a ride to work. Finally, a bleary-eyed, grizzly-looking man opened the door. "Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?" he demanded.

Chase swallowed hard, a little frightened by this threatening figure. "I-uh-I'm Robert Chase. I…I work with Alex. I thought I'd offer her a ride to work."

The man actually snarled. "You woke me up for that?! She's at work, dumbass! Now get out of here! If I ever see you around here again, you'll be able to blow your nose and wipe your ass in one movement!" He slammed the door hard enough to rattle the glass.

Chase stepped back, eyes wide. Alex's stepfather? Oh, God. A wave of nausea shot through him at the thought of her being alone with that Neanderthal. He had to talk to her. Fumbling with his keys as he unlocked the door to his car, he got in quickly and rushed to the hospital.

At eight-thirty, he rushed into the diagnostics office, the door slamming open and waking House. House sat up, a horrific bolt of pain shooting through his thigh. He cut off the scream that threatened to escape and became the second man that day to growl at Chase. "What the Hell is the matter with you? Why are you slamming things around this early in the morning?"

Chase ignored his questions. "Where's Alex?" he demanded. "I went to her apartment. She wasn't there."

"Is it my day to babysit?" House demanded, fumbling for his vicodin. It fell off the desk and rolled to Chase's feet, where he picked it up, opened it, and handed two of them to House. Swallowing them easily, he stared at the intensivist, still waiting for an explaination.

Chase shrugged. "I had a nightmare last night. I just wanted to talk to her. You know, make sure she's alright." House eyed him, getting to his feet. The wombat was lying, what House didn't know was why.


	8. Chase Solves the Puzzle

Disclaimer: These guys aren't mine, including most of the characters, the hospital its self, and the song "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride.

Note: I want to thank IceStar4621 for her help on this. I hope I pull it off effectively. Please review, and let me know if I did!

Chase was pacing around the conference room, a nervous wreck. Something was very wrong here, he just wasn't sure how all the pieces fit together. Cameron was there by nine, and she and House reviewed the overnight labs on the patient, but Chase's mind was otherwise occupied. There was a piece he was missing, something he wasn't seeing and without that piece the picture just didn't make sense. He wondered briefly if this was how House felt when he was trying to make a diagnosis.

His thoughts were interrupted by the rubber tip of a cane poking him in the stomach. "Are you going to be of any use to me, or are you just going to pace?"

Chase rolled his eyes. Something was seriously wrong here! Couldn't House see that? Of course House couldn't see that, he didn't have all the pieces, and he certainly had more than House. "I-just…well, I have a lot on my mind right now." He looked around. "Where did Cameron go?"

House pulled himself to his feet and balanced himself on the back of the chair. "Clinic. Where I should be sending you, but you're too distracted to be of any use. If I send you down there, you'll just try to hide, and you'll give away all my hiding places." House stepped back from the table and tossed something to Chase with his free hand. "Here. Give this to your girl when she gets back." Looking down at the small blue object in his hand, Chase saw Alex's iPod.

He rolled his eyes. "She's not my girl!" He shouted at House's back as the older man retreated to his office, but he made no sign that he heard. Chase sighed and sat down. Alex was not his girlfriend. A close friend, closer than he had ever had before, which was odd after only knowing her for a couple of months. But no, not his girlfriend. He would never risk the companionship of finally having a best friend for a shot at decent sex. No way!

On impulse, he put the headphones in his ears and scanned through the playlist. Several country songs, a few by Nickleback, some James Taylor and Bob Segar. More country. He saw a song that he'd never heard of, and the title intrigued him. Hitting play, he heard a beautiful female voice the list identified as Martina McBride. "Concrete Angel?" he mused. "What the hell does that mean?" The lyrics hit him like a ton of bricks.

_She walks to school with a lunch she packed_

_Nobody knows what she's holding back_

_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday_

_She hides the bruises with the linen and lace_

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask_

_It's hard to see the pain behind the mask_

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm_

_Sometimes she wishes she was never born_

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place where she's loved_

_Concrete angel…_

The last piece clicked into place in Chase's mind, as he dropped the iPod with a clatter. No way! No Fucking way!!! Oh God! All the breath left his body as he tried to digest the last piece of the puzzle. All her bruises, "accidents", the crutches, the things she blamed on her clumsiness when he'd never seen her be even the slightest bit clumsy without crutches. The fact that she always volunteered to stay overnight with the patient, no matter if she hadn't been home in days. The conflicting stories she had told him and House about her ankle. And the scary bastard that opened the door this morning. It all made sense now that he had the final piece, but it was certainly an ugly picture.

Suddenly one earphone was ripped from his ear. "I hate that question, don't make me repeat it!"

He looked up at House, thoroughly confused, and House sighed. "I said, 'Are you okay?' You look like you've seen a ghost!"

It took him a second to find words. "No. Worse." He stood up quickly, knocking his chair to the floor but paying it no mind. He had to do something. What? He couldn't do it alone. House wasn't mobile enough. Damn, he wished Foreman was still around. Oh, God! Leaving the iPod on the floor where it fell, he turned back to House. "Is Wilson here yet?"

House frowned. "I think s-"

"Gotta go!" Chase exclaimed, running for the door with all he was worth. House caught him by the shoulder.

"What is it?" He demanded softly, but it was still a demand.

Chase looked at him with sorrow and terror in his eyes. "There's no time. It's on her iPod. She's in trouble." With that, he was gone.

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Chase burst into Wilson's office like all the demons in hell were after him, much to the shock of the oncologist, who was talking to a patient. House was the only one who ever did this, and on the rare occasion he did interrupt, Chase ALWAYS asked the patient for forgiveness. This time, he didn't even acknowledge the young woman. He had another young woman on his mind, that was also in jeopardy. "Dr. Wilson, I need your help!"

Confusion and surprise warred for supremacy in his chocolate eyes, but exasperation won out. "Uh, kinda busy here, Chase. I should be done in about twenty minutes. Wait for me next door, and I'll be there as soon as I-"

"She could be dead in twenty minutes!" Chase roared, and Wilson's eyes widened.

"Who?" Wilson demanded. "You don't have a patient and-"

Chase cut him off. "Alex!"

Wilson's jaw clenched involuntarily, and he stood up, turning to the patient. "Mandy, I-"

She smiled a little, and stood up too. "Go. Someone else needs you now. I'll see you next week." She slipped past Chase, and Wilson looked at him expectantly.

"Well, what's wrong with Alex?"

Chase still couldn't put his revelation into words, couldn't make himself say the word "abuse" again, couldn't tell Wilson that he had told an abusive psychopath that Alex hadn't been at the hospital last night, that Alex had went home not knowing that he was in a rage at being woken up, and that whatever happened to her today was all his fault. So instead, he grabbed him by the sleeve. "Come on!" I'll explain on the way!" He pulled Wilson to the door, then stopped. "You don't have a gun, do you?"

"What?" exclaimed Wilson. "No!"

Chase scanned the office, hoping for something that could be used for a weapon, and his gaze fell on Alex's hockey stick. She had conned Wilson into playing a little with her a few days ago before a code was called that interrupted the game. Wilson was looking at Chase like he had gone insane. "What the hell are you going to do with that?!"

Chase was finally almost able to form coherent sentences. "Alex went home. He's going to kill her!"

This was not helping Wilson's opinion of Chase's sanity. "What?!" Chase gave up and just grabbed his arm again. Wilson followed, partly because of the Australian's death grip on his bicep, and partly because after all these years with House it was merely a conditioned response.

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Chase was finally able to explain himself to his captive/backup on the drive to the less-than-ideal neighborhood where their friend lived. At first, Wilson resisted, because no one wants to believe that's happening to their friends. "No!" he said. "That's insane! Chase, she's twenty-four years old! People that age who have been abused don't just stay and take the abuse! They run like scared rabbits on their 18th birthdays!"

Shaking his head, Chase disagreed with him gently. "Not always, Dr. Wilson. Not even most of the time. A lot of the time, children don't know there's any other way."

"She's not a child, Chase! She's a grown woman!"

"I know that, okay? But if that's all she's even known…we know what happened to her mom…but we don't know why. Maybe her mother couldn't deal with it, and just…"

Wilson shook his head. "Just left her daughter with an abusive asshole? What kind of parent would do that?" He looked over at Chase and winced. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

Chase didn't acknowledge it. Just replied quietly, "It happens. And now this bastard is all she has."

By the time they made it to the door of her apartment, Wilson had accepted it, and was only half a step away from murderous. He actually wished he DID have a gun, but recognized it was probably for the best that he didn't. Chase wasn't even the half-step away. He looked like he could take the man apart with his bare hands. This lasted until Wilson pounded viciously on the door and he got his first look at their opponent.

The man, John Gray, stood several inches taller than both doctors, and possibly outweighed both of them combined. Alcohol radiated from every pore, the stench nearly overpowered Wilson. Chase, however, realized that in the years since his mother's death, he had not lost his tolerance to the smell. "Where is she?" He demanded, trying to sound brave despite the fact that this man looked as if he could step on them both and squish them like bugs.

Wilson, while somewhat more reasonable, but certainly no coward and frightened for his young friend, stepped up beside Chase. "Where's Alex?"

The man growled again, sounding like a rabid pit bull. "You again! I told you to go away! You couldn't listen, so now I'll deal with you!" Before either would-be heroes could react, he pulled a six-inch knife from his belt with one hand, and grabbed Chase by the collar with the other.

Chase saw where this was going a fraction of a second before it happened, but not in enough time to prevent it. He did, however, have time to get out a warning to Wilson. "Run!" he shouted just before a big, beefy hand closed around his shirt collar tight enough to choke him.

His captive's warning to his friend was unfortunate, but before the other man could say or do anything, he brought the knife to Chase's throat. "I don't think that would be a very good idea." His bloodshot eyes met Wilson's. "Do you?"

Wilson surveyed the crazy man, then allowed his eyes to meet Chase's terrified aqua eyes. Then he slowly shook his head.

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House was alone in his office when Alex slowly made her way back into the conference room. "Where is everyone?" she asked. House looked up from his game boy to see her, and immediately saw that something wasn't right. Her stance was off. She looked a little off-balance, and her left hand was tucked into her lab coat pocket halfway up her forearm, and she was putting so much pressure on the pocket that it pulled her lab coat askew. "What time is it?" He asked her.

Her watch was on her left hand. She contemplated trying to pull it out, then shook her head. "You have a clock on your computer."

"It's wrong."

She sighed, then in a moment of inspiration pulled her cell phone out of her other pocket. "Nine thirty-six."

Sitting the phone down on the table, she picked up Chase's crossword puzzle book from the shelf and was about to sit back down with it when House came to the office door, her iPod in his hand. "Alex," he asked in his kindest tone possible. "Can you get me the copy of Grey's Anatomy off the top shelf over there?"

Suspicion filled her eyes. "You're up. Why can't you get it?"

"Because I'm the boss. I have minions for things like that." She stared at him. He knew, and was trying to make her give in. Finally, he looked at her with something like compassion. "Look, either get the ten-pound book from the top shelf, or sit down and tell me who broke your arm." She still didn't reply. He sighed. "You're a doctor. You know not getting it fixed can cause nerve damage. You could be in pain for the rest of your life." He gestured with his cane, but she still seemed to be on another planet, not responding to him at all. "Look, just take off your lab coat. Let me examine your arm." He was aware that he sounded way too much like Wilson for comfort.

Finally, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I can't."

House felt an unwelcome pang of something twist in his chest at her tone. He knew and respected her attitude, and knew what it cost her to sound so defeated. "You can. I'm a doctor too, remember? We'll get x-rays and deal with whoever did this to you later."

She looked back up again, something clearly broken in her eyes as well as her upper arm. "No, I mean I can't. Physically. I can't get my lab coat off. You'll have to help me."


	9. Family

John drug Chase by the arm, knife still to his neck, and Wilson followed. He knew if he didn't, the man would slit Chase's throat right in front of him. This was not good. Not good at all. Their captor stopped in front of a solid oak door, and while pinning Chase to the wall with the blade, opened the door and motioned for Wilson to go inside. Wilson hesitated. "What do you need? An engraved invitation?!" He raged. "Get in there, or I'll kill him now!"

Wilson's heart was already racing, both at the imminent danger and the idea of being locked in this tiny, dark closet, but it practically tripled in response to the tiny whimper of fear and pain Chase tried to suppress as the blade was pressed harder and sank slightly into the tender flesh. Tiny drops of blood beaded to the surface, and Wilson knew that even as horribly claustrophobic as he was, the psychological torture of being locked in there in the dark would be easier to live with than the horror of watching a friend be killed because of you. "Okay," he said, going into the closet. "Don't hurt him."

John responded by grabbing Chase by his wounded throat and throwing him into the closet at Wilson, knocking them both to the ground. The light disappeared as he slammed the heavy door shut behind him. Chase was aware of the sound of a key in a deadbolt lock as he pulled himself into a sitting position in the pitch black, but then a slightly more terrifying sound reached his ears. Someone was gasping for breath. If the two of them were alone in there, and he was okay…

He turned and felt for his companion, who was barely more than an arms-length away. Operating on feel alone, he put one hand on the other man's chest and one on his shoulder, observing his heart rate and breathing. Shit. Heart rate was too high to count. If they had an EKG right now, he would bet anything Wilson was in SVT. Breathing was outrageous too, maybe 40 a minute. This was more than a reaction to the situation. This was even worse than the worst panic attack he had ever seen. "Dr. Wilson? What's wrong? Are you okay? Wilson?" His unsteady hands barely caught the oncologist as he slumped to the side, mercifully unconscious.

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Alex was strangely quiet as House led her to the nearby wheelchair. Now that she didn't have to hide it anymore, she admitted it hurt. A LOT. House helped her out of the lab coat, and it was a painful struggle. Her right arm had slipped easily out when he pulled it behind her, and he ignored how she flinched when he took her wrist to do it. That arm didn't seem to be injured, so…

"That's how he did it, wasn't it?" House asked her. "Pulled your arm behind your back, hit your elbow on something, snapped the humerous?" She nodded miserably. He forced himself to make his touch just a little bit gentler. He saw a lot of things as a doctor, but this kind of thing never failed to make him sick to his stomach. And they way she had flinched away from his touch just made him sicker. "Who was it? Boyfriend? Chase?" He had been trying to joke with that last one, but it fell flat. The rumors about those two had started almost from day one.

Her eyes flashed at that. "Chase couldn't do this! Ever!"

"Easy, kid," House said, putting a hand on her uninjured shoulder. "Don't tense up, this is going to hurt as it is." He gripped the top of the left sleeve, and was trying to figure out how to ease it down over the massive swelling in her upper arm.

"Hurts anyway," she said. "Just pull it off. Get it over with. It wasn't so swollen when I put it on."

House winced at the though and pulled out his vicodin. Shaking three of them into his hand, he popped one into his mouth, and handed her the other two. "Here, these will help."

She tried to smile, and hold back her tears at the same time. "Can I have some water?"

"Chew them up. They'll help faster."

She nodded, and complied. "Eww!" she said around the powder in her mouth. House just smiled.

"You get used to that," he said. "Who was it? Not a boyfriend?"

She found something interesting to stare at on the carpet. "My stepdad, John." House took this in, and as she was distracted and as relaxed as she was going to get, he grasped her sleeve and pulled in down her broken arm as swiftly and gently as he could, leaving her in only a camouflage print tank top.

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Wilson woke up to Chase's more and more frantic pleas, and a light shining in first one eye then the other. He batted Chase's hands from his face and sat up. In the dim light, he could see that Chase was holding a small penlight. He took in his surroundings, and his breathing sped up again. His eyes darted wildly around they tiny, otherwise empty closet. It couldn't be more than five feet wide, and about that deep. Barely room for both men to sit on the floor. He felt his throat get tight again.

Suddenly, Chase's hands were on his shoulders, shaking him, trying to reassure him. "Wilson, talk to me! What's wrong? Are you allergic to something here? Don't do this again, you passed out last time! Just stay with me, okay?" The penlight illuminated the tiny cell, and Chase saw the panic in his eyes. "Oh, hell. You're claustrophobic!"

Wilson was able to process the words, and nodded. "Yeah. Claustrophobic."

Chase squeezed his eyes shut. Okay. Bad situation just got ten times worse. "It's okay. Just try to calm down. We'll get out of here."

Wilson was making a valiant effort to do as Chase asked, and was finally able breathe somewhat normally. However, the terror in his eyes was still threatening to overwhelm him. Chase let go of his shoulders and sat back against the wall. Shifting a little, he felt something in the back pocket of his khaki pants. His eyes widened. His cell phone!

Wordlessly, he pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to Wilson. The older man's jaw dropped. "Do you-"

Chase clapped a hand over his mouth. "Shhh! He might hear!"

Wilson shut his mouth immediately. "So," he whispered. "What do we do with it, then? If we can't call 911?"

Chase scanned through the menu, and opened the text message option. Grinning at Wilson, he entered House's number and typed ALEX APARTMENT. HELD PRISONER. CALL 911. He hit send. "Now we just have to wait. House will call for help, and we'll be out of here soon."

Wilson still looked severely uncomfortable, like a rabbit in a trap, but not nearly as hopeless as he had. "Yeah. Just have to wait." Just then, they heard the sound of the lock disengaging, and exchanged panicked looks. It was way too soon for help, so that only left…

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"Dr. Gray!" A technician rushed in to the x-ray room as soon as it was safe. "There's a phone call for you."

Alex looked worriedly at House, who waved her off. "She's busy. Unless it's Dr. Chase."

The tech shook her head. "No, it's not Dr. Chase, but he said it was a family emergency."

House bit his tongue almost hard enough to draw blood. "No chance it was Dr. Wilson?" The tech shook her head. He looked back at Alex, laying on the hard x-ray table, a little loopy from the vicodin, he snarled and turned back to the woman. "She doesn't have any family! Hang up on the bastard!" The tech ran out of the room fearfully. She'd never hang up on someone. She'd just tell him Dr. Gray wasn't there today.

House adjusted Alex's arm again, feeling his stomach tighten at her hiss of pain. "One more angle, kid, and we'll be done. I'll drug you up even better and take you to ortho." Why were his guts al in knots over this girl? Was it simply identifying with a fellow abuse victim? He'd read somewhere that people could automatically be drawn to people like them with no real reason. That would explain why he had two former abused children on his team. It felt better to say "former" in her case, but he knew he would never let this man or any other lay a hand on her. Ever.

"I got family," she said suddenly, half stoned.

"Yeah, kid, I know. The team's a family, we look out for each other, blah blah blah. Guess that means you and Chase would be breaking God's law."

Alex either ignored the attempt to make her laugh or argue or she didn't get it. She was a lightweight, and two vicodin hit that annoying spot with her where she was addled, but still felt pain. "No, real family. I have a dad. A father, I mean."

House snapped his head up. "You do? Should I call him?"

She let her head roll back. "No need. He doesn't even know he has a daughter."

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The mountain of a man stood silhouetted in the doorway, still holding the knife. "Okay, boys, here's the deal. She's not at the hospital. Where would she hide?" He looked down at them, as if actually expecting an answer.

The two doctors exchanged a look. "So she's not here?" asked Chase slowly.

John rolled his eyes. "If she was, would I be asking you? Now, are you going to tell me the easy way or the hard way?"

"We don't know!" exclaimed Wilson, still bordering on panic. It was so much worse, actually seeing freedom, but knowing he couldn't make it. He suddenly couldn't breathe again.

"And if we did, we'd never tell you, asshole!" Chase exclaimed defiantly. Ever the martyr, he realized that if he pissed this man off enough, he would take it out on Chase, and maybe leave Wilson alone. Sure enough, he grabbed for Chase, and Wilson dove for the door. John backhanded him head first into the wall, and he slumped, unconscious. Then he caught Chase in a choke-hold, disturbing the recently clotted would on his throat, and roughly dragged him out of their prison. Chase risked a backwards glance at his unconscious friend, and was somewhat disturbed to realize he was relieved that he was out. At least he would be spared the horror of being alone in the dark, tiny cell. The glint in his captor's eyes told him he would receive no such mercy.

"Personally," the large man said eyeing the terrified Australian, "I was hoping you would resist. It's much more fun this way."


	10. Captives

Note: Sorry for the long delay. I swear, I'm not trying to torture you guys, but I'm having technical difficulties. My computer went totally haywire, and attacked me. Literally. As in I have second-degree burns on my wrist. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know if you do (or even if you don't!) and cross your fingers my friends at the station will continue to share their computers so I can update!

Once the bone was set, casted, and in a sling, Alex was starting to come out from the vicodin haze. She was laying on the couch in House's office, and House was sitting a few feet away playing his PSP. Shaking her head to clear the last of the fuzziness from her eyes and sat up straight. "House?"

He looked up at his injured duckling, and glanced at his watch. "About time!" he said. "If I had any idea you were such a lightweight, I'd have held back on the good stuff!"

She shifted a little, and a bolt of pain shot through her arm. "I'd say you weren't liberal enough," she complained. "How long have I been out?"

"About two hours. Have a nice nap?" She nodded, embarrassed.

"Look, about what happened…"

House shook his head. "You don't have to tell me now. I'll just eavesdrop when you tell the police. No use in having to go through it twice."

Her eyes widened. "Police?! No, I just-"

He stood up sharply. "Don't you dare say anything to the effect of 'I just made him mad', or I'll break your other arm myself!" She looked startled, and he realized that may not have been the right thing to say. "Ok, sorry, shouldn't have put it like that. But you have to talk to the police. This bastard beat the shit out of you, and from your reaction, I take it this isn't the first time." She looked down, ashamed, her face turning red and tears fighting to break free.

House closed his eyes. Shit. He wasn't the one who should be doing this, where was Chase?! He should be the one dealing with this! Chase was good at the whole being a person thing. He would know just what to do. Before he could continue, Alex finally reacted. She looked back up and was ready to meet his eyes when he opened them. They burned into his with anger he had only seen from her once, the day she reminded Wilson even boy-wonder oncologists have to watch what they say. Only now it was directed at him. He expected her to shout, but when she spoke her voice was calm and steady. "You think this is the worst it's ever been? There's been some nights that I didn't know if I would survive! A broken arm is NOTHING!"

He stared at her; this was totally unexpected. He had expected fear, or maybe even relief that she wasn't alone in this anymore. Anger, however…that came out of left field. She continued. "You look at me now and see a poor little abused kid, someone too weak to protect herself! That's not me, not who I am! I don't need your pity!"

He recoiled a little at her words. How many times had he said that last sentence? "I don't pity you," he said softly. "I want to help you." The words even surprised him. Wasn't he supposed to be a heartless bastard? Oh well. The kid wasn't going to tell on him.

"When you trip over your own feet and Chase offers you a hand up, what do you do?"

"I ignore it," he said.

"And I should do any different?"

"It's different!" he exclaimed. She cocked her head, and motioned for him to explain. He sighed. "Okay. Tripping over my own feet is the equivalent of that black eye you had a few weeks ago. This…this is more like when I slipped down the steps outside my apartment in the ice storm and couldn't get up. The ice made my leg hurt worse than ever, and I was stuck." He added the last word purposely for effect. "Helpless."

She looked at him warily. "What did you do?"

He looked away. "I called Wilson. He came and helped me up."

Alex contemplated that for a moment, then changed the subject. "Where is Wilson, anyway?"

House shrugged. "Haven't seen him."

"What about Chase? If he was here, you'd be somewhere else, letting him deal with the emotional stuff."

House jerked his head up, remembering. Chase had gone looking for Alex. Hours ago. And if Alex was here, relatively safe… "Alex, what's your address?"

She hadn't expected that, but was wary all the same. "Why? I said I didn't want to talk to the police!"

"Kid, Chase went looking for you. Chances are, he tried your apartment. Want to tell me what happened from there?"

Alex stood up way too fast and the room spun. She fought against it and held her ground. When she was steady, she looked at House. "I changed my mind. Call the police. Tell them to meet us at 125 Manchester road, apartment 14."

"Us?"

"Either come on, or give me the keys to your motorcycle."

House thought it over. "Ok, let's go!"

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Wilson came to in the pitch black, and struggled to piece together where he was and why. His head was busting, and the only break he got from the darkness was the swirling colors in his vision. _'Okay,'_ he thought to himself, _'positive on the concussion'_. Then it all hit him. Alex. The rescue attempt. Chase. Oh, God, Chase! He called out to his friend, quietly, and felt around the cramped space, his claustrophobia returning full-force. He was nauseated, either from the head injury or fear. He wished the sadistic asshole holding them had at least left Chase's penlight!

He froze, and all rational thought left his mind as he heard a bone-chilling scream. He knew deep down that it was Chase, and his heart sped up to double-time. What was he doing to Chase? There was nothing to be gained by simply sitting there worrying. All that would do was sent him back into a claustrophobic panic again, although the trauma of that seemed to be receding. Gave a little credence to the barbaric psychology practice of "flooding", in which you completely immersed a phobic patient in whatever they were afraid of. Still barbaric, cruel even, but as he was breathing almost normally, he had to admit it was effective.

Pushing himself to his feet, Wilson felt his way to the door and started pounding on the door. "Hey!" he shouted as loud as he could, wincing at the bolt of pain the noise sent through his head. "Hey! Leave him alone! Let us go! We don't know anything!" It seemed too much to hope for that his yelling actually made a difference, but Chase did stop screaming.

He found out why a moment later when the closet door burst open and John reached in and grabbed Wilson by his shirt. His eyes were wild and the doctor hiding under the terrified captive mentality noticed that his pupils were pinpoint. He was higher than a kite on something…crank, maybe. If things were bad before, they had moved on to 'lost in the woods, no food, and only Cameron for company' levels. "'Bout time you woke up!" he growled. "I got someone else to work on now. Don't think your friend could take much more!" Wilson let his imagination work on those words as the psychopath drug him down the hallway.

Chase was duct taped to a kitchen chair, looking like he had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. His nose was bleeding, swelling and bruises mottled his face. Blood streaked through his blond hair, and his shirt had been ripped open. Various cuts, bruises, and what looked suspiciously like burns marred the pale skin of his chest. Mercifully, he was unconscious. "What did you do to him?!" Wilson demanded.

"He was being an ass!" He shoved Wilson down into the chair, and went about securing him in the same manner in which he had Chase. "All I wanted was to know where my little girl is, and he got smart with me. Called me a 'unbalanced sociopath'. I don't even know what that means!" Wilson shook his head. Chase was getting more and more like House every day! "So, are you going to tell me, or do I have to hurt you too?" Wilson was silent, dreading what was to come. He would never send Alex back to this man, even if he did know where she was.

His captor reached over to the table and picked up a hammer. "Come on, bub. Don't make me do this. How is little Alex going to feel, knowing I had to hurt her friends to keep her in line?"

A cold rage filled Wilson at that, a rage he didn't think he was capable of, and he actually managed to pull his right leg loose from six layer of duct tape to kick at the man. "You're never touching her again! I'll kill you first!"

John snarled, and swung the hammer at Wilson's leg. It connected solidly with his shin and Wilson howled as the bone splintered. He drew back to swing again, and Wilson threw himself backwards, tipping the chair over and leaving him helpless on the floor. John mover behind him, and held the hammer over his face, ready to drive the claw end into Wilson's brain. He raised the hammer, ready for a home run swing, when the door cashed in. "New Jersey state police!" a voice called. "Everybody FREEZE!"


	11. In the Waiting Room

A/N: Finally back with a new chapter! I finally got my new computer yesterday, so maybe I can update a little quicker. Like most of my stories, this one has taken on a life of its own, and I have very little idea where it's going. Any of your thoughts will be welcome!

New Jersey state trooper Josh Watson stood on top of the front door he just kicked in, his .45 aimed directly at the scene before him. Two men were tied to chairs, one had tipped over onto his back, with a crazed-looking man at least 6'5" standing over him brandishing a hammer. The other one was unconscious, maybe even dead. He took another step inside, his team behind him. "New Jersey state police," he repeated in his normal voice. "Drop your…hammer…and put your hands up!"

The maniacal kidnapper raised his hammer even higher. "Get out of my home!" He screamed. "You got no right to be here!"

"You mean other than the fact that you have hostages?" Watson quipped. "Put your hands up!"

"John, please just do what they say!" Alex came up behind the troopers, voice level, standing as bravely as she could with her arm in a sling strapped to her chest. "You've crossed a line now, hurt other people. Don't make these guys hurt you!"

When his eyes fell on his wounded stepdaughter, they flared with rage. "You!" he roared. "You brought them here, you little bitch! I'll kill you where you stand!" He launched himself at Alex, past the stunned cops, ready to drive the hammer into her skull. Alex closed her eyes, ready for the blow to land, when she heard the shot. Blood splattered on the front of her shirt, and she opened her eyes to see John's lifeless body fall at her feet. Watson still held his gun in firing position, but met the girl's eyes.

She didn't look away from his gaze. "You killed him," she stated simply, without a trace of accusation.

Watson actually winced. Abusive psycho or not, he had just killed this kid's sole family member right in front of her. "I-I'm sorry. I…he…he was going to kill you! You heard him say it!"

"I've heard it for a long time." She stood frozen, looking back down at the dead body at her feet before meeting the trooper's gaze again. "Don't apologize. I've wished for the guts to do it for years." Forcing herself not to tremble, she stepped around the body of her life-long tormenter and went over to check on her friends.

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Alex sat alone in the empty room, where there should be two hospital beds, but instead there was only a hard plastic chair. This was the room both Chase and Wilson would be in when- or in Chase's case, IF- they got out of surgery. Wilson's case was mostly safe, inserting a metal rod into his splintered tibia to allow the bone to re-grow properly. Chase, on the other hand, well, that hurt to even think about. He had been badly beaten, burned with the heated end of the claw hammer, cut several times with a large knife, and was in really bad shape. Going from the ER, she had requested to join them in surgery. Then she demanded to join them in surgery. Then she calmly explained to them that trauma was her specialty, then she said that if he died in the OR, she would have the surgeon's license. Then House took her by her good arm and told her that Cuddy was on her way, and if Alex was still there when she arrived and causing trouble, she would be tied to a bed on the third floor before Chase was even opened.

So she went to the room to wait. She didn't want company, had calmly explained it to Cuddy when she came to check on her, and snapped it at Cameron when she insisted that Alex go get something to eat. And this was where House found her three hours later, knees to her chest, curled up in a chair, left sleeve of the huge State Police sweatshirt she was wearing hanging limp with her left arm still pinned to her chest beneath it. He had thought at first that she was asleep, as she didn't move, but when he got around in front of her, he saw her blue eyes were open, staring at the wall. He pulled up a second chair and tried to find the same spot she was staring at. "Chase is going to be okay," he said finally.

That got her attention, and she turned toward him. "You're not the type to be reassuring."

"I'm not," he said. "I'm giving a medical report."

She sat up straight. "You talked to the surgeons? How is he?"

He twirled his cane and tried to pretend he was simply discussing a clinic patient. "Like I said, he's going to be okay."

She rolled her eyes. "Meaning he's not now. I'm not a scared kid, I'm a doctor. A trauma specialist. I can take it, you know."

"No," he finally conceded. "He's not right now. He lost his spleen, a portion of his small intestines, and a kidney. They ended up giving him five units of blood. But he'll be okay. Good thing, too. I hate job interviews."

"Yeah," Alex added flatly. "Such a waste of time when you could be trying to beat Dungeon Siege on your PSP. How's Wilson?"

"He was still in prep. I thought I'd come and make sure you weren't having a meltdown or something."

"Because you hate job interviews?" She asked with a ghost of a smile.

"Of course," he said, as if it were obvious. "So, nice sweatshirt. Doing some moonlighting I don't know about?"

She looked down at the shirt, having honestly forgotten she was wearing it. "Trooper Watson gave it to me. He said I was shivering when I was trying to stabilize them. Plus, my other shirt was all bloody. It's still under this one, but I think he was afraid I was going to break if I had to keep looking at it."

"Are you going to? Break, I mean?"

She seemed to think about it. "No," she finally replied. "At least, I don't think so." She shifted, and adjusted the oversized shirt around her injured arm. She could feel the blood burning through the thin t-shirt under it and into her skin like acid. "I thought I might even be a little bit upset, him being the last of my family and all, but…" She shook her head. "Nope, nothing."

House looked at her curiously. He had lived through a much milder version of what she had been through, and he knew what he'd feel. "Nothing at all?"

She looked down, and it occurred to him that she was ashamed of what she really felt. Bloody hell! He was going to have to do all this emotional crap again! When Chase was conscious, he was going to give him some serious grief for abandoning him to this. "Don't look away," he said, gently enough to make himself queasy. "I think I know."

Alex gritted her teeth and finally met his eyes with an anger that suggested he was torturing her for information. Which, he guessed was a decent analogy, except what he was looking for was for her own good. He couldn't let her guilt eat her alive. '_Because she's a good doctor, and I hate job interviews_' he reminded himself. Finally, she spoke. "I've always prided myself on being both strong enough to deal with everything and still being a good person. But I can't be a good person when all I feel about watching the man who helped raise me die is relief. So I guess I need to rethink my self-image, huh?"

Great. Emotional crap and psychology. This kept getting better and better. "Kid, do you know what righteous anger is?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was reading on a tenth grade level when I was six years old. Of course I know what it means!"

"I know you know the definition, could probably recite it word for word from the dictionary, but do you know what it _means_?" She had no answer for that, so he went on. "Righteous anger is what people use to justify if they had went off and beat your stepfather's body with his own hammer after he was shot. Because he seems to be inherently evil and after seeing what he did to Chase and Wilson, I don't think I could have kept from it. Hell, I've wanted to just from seeing what he did to you." He stopped and tried to reassess his train of thought. This wasn't going the way it sounded in his head. He was pretty sure the proper way to do this didn't involve giving her mental images of beating him to death with the hammer he used to break Wilson's leg. "What I'm trying to say is, you would be justified going out there and pissing on his corpse. And you're not. That in its self makes you a good person." He pushed himself to his feet. "Now I need to go get something to drink, preferably alcoholic. You look like you could use one too."

This was as close to an invitation as he would ever extend, but she shook her head. "Rain check, okay? I want to stay here until they're both awake. They went through all this to save me. I can't just run off."

She shifted again, uncomfortable, and House noticed that she was cradling her wounded arm again. "Time for another vicodin?" he asked, pulling out his bottle.

"No, thanks," she replied. "They gave me some Tylenol 3, with codeine and all. I took one an hour ago."

He pulled another bottle out of his other pocket. "You mean these?" She nodded. "You know," he went on, there is still one pharmacist here that doesn't hate me. He's actually willing to do me favors. Like, if I want a seal put on a prescription bottle so I can tell whether they've been opened or not."

Her eyes widened for a moment. "There's a seal on my bottle?"

House shook his head. "No. But you still gave yourself away. You don't have to punish yourself over this. There'd no reason for you to be in pain too." He opened the bottle and took out a large round pill. "Take the damn pill."

She held out her hand, and he dropped it into her hand. Once it was in her mouth, he nodded, satisfied. "Okay. Page me when you hear anything." He limped toward the door, and paused, like he wanted to say more.

She caught his hesitation, and knew he wasn't sure what to say. "Go," she said. "I'm fine!" He smiled a little. Kid after his own heart. He closed the door quietly behind him as he left. As soon as he was out of sight, she spit the pill in the trash. With what her friends were going through over her, the least she could do was suffer through a broken arm.


	12. Still Waiting

A/N: I'm not really proud of this chapter, but it was the best I could do on the full moon weekend at an ambulance service. I have had six hours of sleep in three days, so I apologize for any errors.

Alex was dozing restlessly in the uncomfortable chair when they wheeled a groggy Wilson into the room. She sat up quickly, almost toppling the chair. He struggled to full consciousness when he saw her. "Alex? Alex! You're okay?" His eyes were still muddled from the anesthesia, but he was trying to fight through the fog.

She was at his bedside instantly, taking his hand in her. "I'm okay, Dr. Wilson. I'm fine. What did he do to you?"

He was losing the fight against the medicine that was clouding his mind, but he noticed the sling on her arm. "He got you," Wilson muttered, then his eyes met hers desperately. "I didn't tell him where you were, I promise! I didn't tell him anything, and I don't think Chase did, either. He wouldn't. I'm sorry!"

Alex was trying to make sense of the words. "He wanted to know where I was?"

Wilson nodded, getting groggier by the minute. "Wouldn't tell him, though. No matter what. Couldn't let him…he hurt you, though! Wanted to stop him…"

"He won't hurt me anymore. He's dead." Tears filled the young doctor's eyes, but they were for her friend's pain rather than her stepfather's death. Even as much as his leg had to hurt, Wilson was in even more agony over the fact that she had been hurt again.

Wilson let his eyes close. "Good," he muttered very softly. He didn't move again.

Alex turned away as unconsciousness overtook him and his hand slipped from hers. She couldn't stay here and do nothing. There had been enough of that. She readjusted her arm painfully, and burst out the door.

Ten minutes later, she was pacing restlessly outside O.R. three waiting for a report on Chase. He had been in there for two hours, and it would be at least two more. If things went well. Wilson would be out for at least that long. And now there was nobody. She was completely alone. Usually, she would talk to Chase. Maybe even cry on his shoulder. This actually warranted that melodramatic response. Or she could talk to Wilson; maybe even con him into something childish, game of hockey, pick-up basketball. She wondered idly if she could get him to put on some boxing gloves and spar with her, but she doubted it. Her being a girl and all. She was sure she could goad Chase into it, she couldn't imagine him ever being a challenge.

But it didn't matter now. Neither would be in the shape for anything like that for a very long time. If ever. Wilson may have a limp forever, and Chase was going to be messed up for a while. His immune system would be compromised without his spleen, not to mention the complications from only having one kidney. It was going to be rough. And it was all because of her.

Turning sharply, she pulled back her right hand to drive it fist-first into the wall when a rough hand caught it. She turned to face House.

"Now, how bad of an idea would that have been?" He asked. "Break your other hand, make yourself completely useless as a doctor? That really what you want?"

Alex shook her head miserably, fighting back the tears. House was not the person to cry around. "I just needed to-"

"Take out some frustrations, I know. Come on." He started to limp away, but she made no move to follow. "Come on," he ordered when he noticed he was walking alone. "He's got at least two more hours in there, and if you don't work off some of that energy, you're going to hurt somebody." He pulled out her Tylenol bottle, which he had found still sitting on the bedside table in Wilson's room where he had left it, and shook out two. "Here, take these first."

She raised an eyebrow. "But I just took one! Two more would be-"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't lie to me. I hate that. Do you really think I didn't see you spit that one out? I gave you a little time for your masochistic pity party, but if I'm going to show you where the employee gym is, you're not going to be hurting. Now, are you going to take these and follow me, or am I going to leave you here to punch a hole through the wall?" He looked at her calmly, waiting for her answer.

After she considered it, she put out her hand and he dropped the pills into it. She placed them carefully in her mouth and swallowed. He watched, then said, "Open up."

"You've got to be kidding me," she said wearily, but she opened her mouth and even raised her tongue for inspection. "There. Happy now?"

House shrugged. There was no answer for that. That she took the pills and would soon be in less pain? Sure. That his best friend may have a limp to rival his, that his employee was a few organs shy of a full body, and this kid was effectively orphaned and in actual physical pain? Not so much. He started down the hall, and nodded for her to follow.

After a moment, she did. "Wait!" she said. "I've been here five months! Why didn't anyone tell me about an employee gym before now?"

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An hour and a half later, Alex was sitting back in the hard plastic chair, her hair still wet from the shower held back from her face by a camo-print bandana. After House had led her to the basement that she thought only held the morgue, and taken her to a large room that looked like it had been abandoned for a rather long time. Three dusty treadmills, a pair of exercise bikes, and several different weight machines filled the room, and one wall had been caged off for a racquetball court. She had run three miles, the last one clutching her broken arm to her body as the running jarred it, but she refused to quit until she was so exhausted she could hardly stand up. After that she had played around on the weight machines, the leg press mostly, and worked her aching body until it was begging her to ask House for a vicodin, and she wasn't sure she wouldn't collapse in the shower.

She was firmly convinced that she deserved to hurt, that was why she hadn't wanted to take the pills, why she was going to punch the wall, why she put herself through such a punishing workout. Her only friends were hurting badly because of her, they would never be the same, and she was completely alone. Surely House understood that. Yet…he had made her take the pills. It wasn't like she was whining or anything. That didn't make sense.

The sweatshirt had been soaked through with sweat, and she had shed it and her bloody tank top and jeans for fresh, clean green scrubs. It had taken some maneuvering to get both shirts off and the clean one on, but now she was collapsed back in the chair playing the post-op waiting game again.

The room was empty, Wilson had gone on to his actual room and Alex had been given a very reassuring report: The break hadn't been as severe as anticipated. Wilson had been spared the whole putting-a-metal-rod-in-his-tibia thing, the fragments had just been put back in place and immobilized. With any luck, he wouldn't even limp. There would just be a couple of months on crutches. _And a lot of pain_, she reminded herself guiltily. Now she was just waiting for Chase.

Suddenly she heard the bone-chilling sound every doctor, nurse, paramedic and worried family member fears: The shrill beeping of a heart monitor flatlining into asystole.


	13. Flatline

Alex burst into the OR, the high-pitched whine still ringing in her ears, just in time to see the surgeon pull a sheet over the body. She stopped in her tracks and a wail escaped her, unbidden. The entire surgical staff turned to face her. "What the hell are you doing in here?!" The surgeon exclaimed. He looked around. "Someone get this kid out of here!"

Two of the nurses grabbed her and started to guide her out the door, but she pulled away. "I want to see him!" she demanded. "I want to say goodbye!" She rushed at the table, and an OR tech grabbed her from behind, pinning her broken arm in the process, and she let out a yell of pain.

"Get her out of here!" the outraged surgeon demanded. "I thought he didn't have any family."

"Neither do I!" She yelled back. "But that doesn't mean that nobody cares that he's dead!" She struggled violently in the man's arms, but was unable to get away. Finally, the pain got to be too much, and she forced herself to relax. Suddenly, the door burst open again.

"Put my employee down before I have to shove this cane so far up your ass you won't know if you need a proctologist or an EENT!" House said, putting his weight on the hand bracing him in the doorway and raising the cane threateningly. "Now, would someone like to explain this, or should I make up my own ideas?"

The surgeon stared him down. "Your employee? This kid runs into my OR, screaming, and you try to tell me she's a doctor? She can't be more than fifteen! Get out of here and take your pet brat with you!"

House pointed his cane threateningly at the tech, who reluctantly lowered Alex to the floor. She was dizzy from the pain, and holding her arm tightly, she walked to House's side. He gave her a once-over, then turned back to the offensive surgeon. "This is Dr. Alex Gray, the famous trauma specialist, Princeton-Plainsborough's own child prodigy. You'd have been damn lucky to have her assist you."

Alex looked up at House pitifully, child-like, too deep in her grief to even try to be strong. "House, Chase is dead."

House met her gaze. "No he's not."

Before he could elaborate, the surgeon, not satisfied with simply the identity of the invader, went on angrily. "Why the hell would I need her? There was no trauma in this case!"

House rolled his eyes. "I know that! The 'kid', as you so disrespectfully referred to her, has had a rather traumatic day, and is in the wrong OR." He looked back down to the shaking, but now hopeful young doctor. "Chase was in OR 4, Alex. Wilson was in this one, but he was finished two hours ago. Remember?"

She took in a shaky breath. "Not in here." House shook his head. "He's okay? Not dead?"

House almost smiled. "Not dead. He's in the recovery room. And asking about you. This is some kind of hemorrhoid thing gone wrong, and has nothing to do with you. Or Chase. Or Wilson, for that matter."

The surgeon, angry before, was livid now. "This was a triple A, you asshole!"

Alex couldn't help but wince. An abdominal aortic aneurism is almost always a death sentence. Sucked for the surgeon to have a case with such a poor outcome, but he was still being an ass. That feeling of pity faded as an overwhelming desire to see Chase took over. "Waiting room?" she asked House.

He nodded. "Go. I'll be right there." She fled in a run, and he turned back to the surgical staff. "Any of you says one word to Dr. Cuddy about this, and you will sorely regret it. I could come up with some over-the-top threat now, but you get the idea, and you guys aren't worth any more of my good material. Oh, yeah, but I could go with the simple and obvious and remind you that three of you just grabbed an injured doctor, and that constitutes assault. For some reason, that kid listens to me. Do you want me to tell her to press charges?"

No one answered him, so on that note, he turned and followed his youngest and most damaged duckling.

The door to the recovery room slammed open, startling Chase through the fog of sedation. He sat up sharply. "Alex?" He asked weakly.

She was at his side in an instant. "Chase! You're okay!" She sank down into a chair beside the bed and took his hand in hers. "I heard the heart monitor and thought it was you and I thought you were dead and I was so scared and what the hell were you thinking?" She finally had to take a breath, and it came out as a shaky sob. ""He could have killed you! What suddenly convinced you that you were Russell Crowe?"

He let out a shaky laugh. "You're okay! I thought he was going to kill you."

Alex shook her head. "If he was going to kill me, he would have some time in the last 24 years. You, on the other hand…"

His eyes turned as serious as he could manage through the drugs. "Did the police get him? I'm sorry, Alex, but I'm going to press all the charges I can. Wilson will too."

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "There's no need for that."

Reaching out to her, he put a hand on her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "There's every need for that. If it gets him away from you, there's definitely a need."

She realized that he didn't remember what had happened. "Chase, you were unconscious. Nobody's told you?"

He tried to sit up straight at those frightening words, but the pain in his abdomen stopped him. "Your arm," he said, getting an appraisal of the situation. "You're hurt. Wilson? How bad? Is he…?" Panic filled him. Had he gotten Wilson killed? And Alex was still hurt and trying to talk him out of pressing charges and-

"Chase, calm down!" Alex exclaimed, watching his heart rate escalate on the ECG at his bedside. "Calm down, Wilson's ok. You're gonna go into SVT!" His pulse was at 140, if it got much higher, it would require medical intervention. "Come on, Chase, don't make me give you Adenosine."

He made an effort to calm down. Wilson was fine, she said, and he certainly didn't want Adenosine. The medicine for Supraventricular Tachycardia was very effective, unfortunately, it had the unpleasant side effect of sending the patient into asystole for several seconds. The patient is alive and awake, but their heart is not beating. It's a very unpleasant sensation. He watched his heart rate ease slowly down to 95, then looked back at her. "Wilson's ok. You're okay. So what has nobody told me?"

"John's dead. You were out, Wilson was…tied up…I showed up with the police, he tried to attack me, and the cop shot him. He's dead."

Chase looked like he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but caught himself. "I-I'm…" he took a deep breath. "Do you want me to lie and say that I'm sorry?"

She smiled. "No."

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It was after three a.m. before Alex was worn out enough to even consider sleep. She had bounced back and forth between Wilson's room and Chase's room, keeping them company, seeing to their medical needs, and generally being a pain in the ass to anyone trying to get her to go rest. House had made himself scarce, leaving Wilson's room when she came in, but she was very thankful for the fact that he seemed to keep Cameron away from her and the injured doctors. She may have felt alone earlier, but she just didn't think she could deal with all that concern right now.

But now, Wilson and Chase had both been given a Visteril to help them sleep, but no one thought to offer her one. She still had to drive home, right?

Yeah, right. Like she would really be able to sleep in that hell hole now, even if it wasn't still considered a crime scene. And with her only two friends sedated in their rooms, she had nowhere to go. Which is how she found herself settling down on the couch in the diagnostics office with a sheet.

She was almost asleep when House entered the room. He didn't seem at all surprised to see her curled up on the couch. "I take it you're homeless now?"

She sat up, and shrugged. "I guess."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he dropped that line of conversation. "You take your pills?"

"Yup." She had taken two almost an hour ago, and the pain had faded to a dull throb. At his questioning look, she glared back and tossed him the bottle. "Count 'em if you want."

He opened it and scanned the contents, then replaced the lid and tossed them back. "Don't supposed you want to crash on my couch?"

She considered it for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I think I'll just sleep here. In case Wilson or Chase needs something. I've told the nurses to page me if they woke up, or needed anything, or if they even made any funny noises. Thanks for the offer, though."

He shrugged again, then nodded toward the next office. "I'd sleep in Wilson's office, though. His couch is more comfortable, and he's got several blankets in his closet." Picking up his coat and a file, he continued. "He slept in there a lot, you know, what with all the ex-Mrs. Wilsons."

She managed a small laugh at that, but gathered her stuff to move. He handed her a key, and she looked at him questioningly. "Key to his office. What did you think, you'd have to break the balcony door?"

A/N: Okay, so I am officially a major sadist leaving the last chapter like I did, but I hope the effect worked out. Please review! Let me know how I'm doing, and remember, your input helps shape the story!


	14. Forgiveness

A/N: This is kinda short, But I hope to update again tonight. Please let me know what you think on this, even if the next chapter is almost up!

It was three days before anyone other than House found out Alex was sleeping in Wilson's office. House had looked at her questioningly the next morning when she showed up in the diagnostics office in fresh clothes looking as well-groomed as she would if her entire world hadn't just crashed down, and she later told him that she kept five full sets of clothes in her car, because she never knew when she might need to 'disappear' for a few days. He had nodded, and seemed to understand. She wasn't sure if he actually did, or if he just didn't want to pursue it.

On the third night, at a little after eleven, the light popped on and she sat straight up on the couch, one arm held up to protect her face as the rightful owner of the office realized he wasn't alone. He saw her defensive pose, even half asleep, and the realization hit him like a punch to the gut that she wasn't covering her eyes from the light. Half a second later, she took in the crutches, the haggard look, the pale complexion, and straightened herself. "Wilson! Hi. I…uh…was just taking a nap."

He maneuvered himself onto the corner of the couch she had vacated. "Just taking a nap?"

She nodded quickly. "Uh-huh."

"With my grandmother's quilt?"

Looking guiltily at the old patchwork quilt she was covered up in, she said, "I'm sorry. I just-"

He put a hand on her shoulder. "The only one who both knew where that was, and had a key to give you was House. He knows you're sleeping in here?"

She nodded again, not meeting his eyes. This was the part where he berated her for being a baby, for not having the guts to get a hotel room, for hiding on familiar turf instead of spreading her wings for the first time. Tears blurred her sleep-dulled vision. This was why she kept it a secret. People always said abuse victims were just that, victims, but there was an underlining of contempt. People always felt like you deserved it because you didn't try hard enough to get away. They never understood that if she ran away, she would never be able to sleep at night for wondering when he would find her, when he would show up at her door and wait for her to go to the store or go to work or whatever, and either take her or kill her on the spot. People who had never been afraid to go to sleep at night didn't understand that kind of paralyzing fear, and looked down on those who did.

Wilson surprised her, though. "I just got released. Wasn't looking forward to trying to get home either."

She looked up, amazed at the gentle tone of his voice, calm and soothing, not at all accusing. Not blaming her for his injury, the tremendous amount of pain he had to be in. But she still had to salvage some pride. "I can't go home. It's still a crime scene. I've not got anywhere else to go."

Wilson struggled to his feet, and Alex shot up to steady him. Once he was set on his feet, he stumbled, and Alex caught him easily with her good arm. She wasn't that much shorter than him, and he was shocked at her strength. Her one arm easily held him braced against her body until he was able to stand.

He looked at her and saw that her face had twisted into a sympathetic wince. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No," he lied.

Her eyes met his, crystal blue searching his deep brown ones, seeing the lie, seeing the pain, but he let it go. He leaned on his crutches, and she reluctantly pulled away. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I never meant to get anyone hurt."

He awkwardly turned to face her, sparing a moment to remember how difficult a time she had on crutches, and looked at her sternly. "You didn't 'get' me hurt. Chase either. We chose to do what we did, you didn't ask us. Then a crazy asshole attacked us. I know he was your family, but I need to be blunt about this: It was not your fault. You did NOT do this to us. It is NOT your fault!"

She looked up, but still wouldn't meet his eyes, forcing an 'I'm-fine-leave-it-alone' smile that she could have copied from House. "I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree."

He smirked and shook his head. "I guess so. Will you feel better if I say I forgive you?" She nodded slowly, still focusing with all her might on the pattern of the couch. He reached down carefully and with a hand on her cheek, turned her face to look directly at his. "I in no way blame you, you were not responsible for this. But I since you seem to need it, I forgive you."

A real smile cracked onto her face. "For real?"

She sounded so much like a teenager that he fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, for real."

"Do you need a ride home?" she asked suddenly. "You can't drive like that."

Wilson hadn't thought about that. His Volvo was a stick shift, and he was under orders to put no weight at all on his leg. But, the girl had been asleep when he came in to get his coat…"That's okay, I can take a cab." She looked disappointed, so he changed his mind quickly. "Actually, I could use a drink, and you look like you could too. Why don't we both take the cab?"

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Wilson woke slowly, his head feeling fuzzy. He must have had one too many with House last night. As he stretched a little, he felt twin lances of pain shoot from his leg and his head and meet in the middle. What the hell? And if he was drinking with House, how did he get to his own bed? And who was…?

At his pained groan, the ball of blankets beside him sat up, red hair messy from sleep, blue eyes wide with concern. "Dr. Wilson- I mean, James? Are you okay?"

It all came back to him in a rush, and he smiled. "Yeah, Alex. I'm fine."


	15. Comforting Each Other

Okay, remembering how he wound up in bed with his best friend's employee (_Fourteen years younger!!) _did not make it any less awkward, or give him any more idea how to handle the situation. However, he was spared having to fumble his way through some cheesy morning after line when she saw the panic in his eyes and decided to take charge.

"So," she said, pulling the sheet up around herself and smoothing her unruly red hair down. "We just had sex. And it was good. For us both to be crippled."

He smirked at her words as flashes of last night ran through his mind. She had done most of the work, allowing him to simply lay there and took his mind off the pain in his leg. Yeah, it had been good. For him, at least. Not being very mobile had made a huge dent in what he could do for her, and he found himself uncomfortably wondering if this was why House stuck with hookers. "Wow," he said, smiling. "Not much for small talk, are you?" This was good. If she wanted to lead, it saved him from having to stumble through the apology he knew he owed her for taking advantage of her traumatized state. For the moment, anyway. That one would need rehearsal.

She shrugged. "You know me. I can talk about the weather, or how bad the Flyers suck this year, but now, I figure it's best to be blunt."

He shrugged, making no effort to cover his bare chest with the sheet as she did, and she took a moment to appreciate how well he was built. The suits he wore hid way too much. People who were made like him should just wear underwear. Nothing else. Ever. "Um, sorry. What did you say?" She realized her had said something while she had been admiring his upper body.

"I said, 'Blunt is good. Saves time and miscommunications'."

She forced herself back into the present. "So, there are two ways we can handle this. First, I can leave, we go to work, and pretend this never happened." He winced slightly at that one. Okay, so not that one. "Second, I can go make us breakfast, we drive to work together, and laugh it off as a weak moment between friends." He didn't look much happier about that one, and she was about to speak again when he surprised them both by reaching out to draw her closer to him.

"You forgot option three," he said, trailing his fingers down the curve of her shoulder, giving her chill bumps.

"What's option three?" she asked in a hushed voice, his light ministrations making her shiver.

"_I_ go make breakfast, we got to work together, and you come back here with me tonight instead of crashing on the couch in my office."

She looked up at him, mouth slightly open in shock. "You mean…you and me…uh…like we're going out or something?"

He grinned at her. "I guess that's what you'd say."

"But…why me?"

Okay, he had been prepared for a lot of responses on her part, but complete and utter confusion was not one of them. "Uh…why NOT you?"

She had pulled back, not necessarily pulling away from him, just getting to where she could see his face. "Because I'm…broken. Damaged. You can do so much better!"

He actually laughed out loud at that one. "That's you're reasoning? Because you're broken? Alex, my best friend is House! Apparently, I _like_ damaged."

She started giggling. "You got me there!" Then she looked up into his eyes, searching them for something, taken aback at the sincerity she found there. "Are you sure?"

He didn't break eye contact. "I'm willing to give it a try if you are."

Her mind raced. There were a million reasons this was a bad idea. A trillion, quadrillion, an _infinite_ number of reasons, but…This was Wilson, sweet and kind and funny, Absolutely adorable, the man who helped her that first day, the one who didn't try to have her arrested when she hit him in a moment of insanity. House's best friend. Oh, hell, she couldn't even think about what House would say right now. And the biggest reason she couldn't, the reason she hadn't had a relationship in two years, had died with her stepfather. She no longer had to fear for his safety; John had done all the damage he ever could to James Wilson.

That thought hit like a physical blow, and with that the dam between her thoughts and her mouth broke and she began babbling. "But you got hurt so bad because of me, I don't understand how you don't hate me, let alone want to try a relationship, and-"

Wilson knew that nothing good would come of letting her continue, so he gently put one finger to her lips in a universal gesture for "shut up". She did, and he rested that hand on her shoulder and the other on his cast. "This," he said, drawing her attention to the plaster monstrosity that covered two thirds of his leg, "was not your fault! What do I have to say or do to make you understand that?"

The uncertain smile slipped from her face. "I'll never stop blaming myself, James. If I had just…kept my secret a little better…you and Chase would both be okay!"

Tears were threatening again, so Wilson pulled her close. "Maybe we would," he said. "But you wouldn't be, and I am willing to go through all this and more to know that you are. And I know Chase would too." A thought occurred to him. "Hey, is it Chase? Is that why you're hesitating, because you have a thing for him?" He felt silly. "Because I'll understand if it is…"

She made a face at him. "What? Chase?" She pulled back and smacked his bare arm. "Why can't people get that there is NOTHING between me and Chase? He's my best friend! Nothing is or will ever happen between me and Chase!"

He decided he could have a little fun with this. "Nothing with you and Chase, huh? So what is it? Do I smell funny? Snore? Call you by the wrong name?"

She laughed. "Do you really want me to list all the reasons this isn't a good idea?"

He got serious really quick. "Only the ones that matter."

There were so many reasons. The age gap. The trauma of the last few days. House. But none that mattered. She smiled, and leaned in to kiss him.


	16. Trying to Hide a Fire in the Dark

A/N: Sorry this took so long. One of my jobs has forbidden the use of laptops while on the clock. Fortunately, it's the part-time one, the expendable one. Working at an ambulance service without a computer is the very definition of boring, at least at a service that doesn't do emergencies. enjoy, please R&R, and let me know if I got too OOC here. It was a hard one to write. I hope it lived up to expectations. P.S. First person to tell me where the chapter title came from gets to be the Alex's next ER patient.

Wilson and Alex separated at the elevator, trying not to be obvious. He had understandable concerns about how House would handle him sleeping with his youngest duckling, and Alex had concerns of her own. Neither voiced them, but there was no communication necessary when she paused outside the elevator. "You okay to get to your office?"

He was getting better on the crutches, and was relieved that they didn't have to explain themselves just yet, so he nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

Alex grinned at him. "I know you're good, but will you be okay?"

A blush crept down his face, disappearing down the collar of his shirt, and he smiled at his young lover. "I'll be fine." With a surreptitious glance around to see if anyone was looking, he kissed her quickly. He would have felt guilty about making sure no one saw, if she had not done the same thing as they broke apart. "See you later?"

"Definitely."

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"Alex spent the night with you." House, as usual, didn't knock upon entering Wilson's office, just barged in and plopped himself down in the chair opposite the desk.

Wilson startled, but deliberately didn't look up. "What? No, she didn't!"

House sighed. "Are you going to make me prove it? Okay, the kid who wears wrinkled jeans and mismatched socks when she _wasn't_ homeless and has been sleeping in your office shows up today in clothes that are ironed. Not very well, mind you, so you didn't do it, but like a kid who was never taught how trying to figure it out as she went. She ironed them because you ironed yours."

Wilson forced casual. "Okay, yeah. She came to my place. I couldn't just leave her sleeping on the couch in my office. I'm surprised even you could."

House studied his friend carefully, trying to find the flaw in his façade. "I didn't want to. I offered to let her stay with me. She said no. So, did she sleep on the couch, or did you?"

A ripple went through his stomach, and he knew this interrogation wouldn't end until he confessed to everything from sleeping with Alex to cheating on his taxes and the Kennedy assassination. Still, he had his pride. "Huh?"

House rolled his eyes. "She's too pretty to be one of your charity cases like Bonnie, not pretty enough to be one of your trophies like Julie, so you're not sleeping with her. So that means-"

Wilson's composure broke, he looked up sharply, and House spit his coffee out all over his pants, choking. "Mother of God! You are sleeping with her!"

The oncologist winced, waiting for judgment to be passed, and was shocked to see House stand up and hurry off as quickly as he could manage. "Wait! Where are you going?"

House turned around and pointed his cane at Wilson. "Stay!"

"House, leave her al-"

His face actually softened at that. "I'm not going to hurt her, or scare her, or anything. I just want to talk to her."

Wilson still looked a little better, but still unsure. "She's been through a lot…"

House looked at him, very serious. "I know that. I just want to make sure it doesn't get worse."

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She was in an animated conversation with Chase when her cell phone rang. "Alex, House knows. He's on his way. Where are you?"

"Here with Chase. How'd he find out?"

He shrugged, even though she couldn't see him. "He just knew. He did that…thing…he does, something about your clothes and my ex-wives and…"

"Of course! I ironed my clothes. Should have known better. Anyway, it's okay. I'll deal with it."

"He told me to stay here, but if you want me there-"

"It's okay," she cut him off, but in a soothing tone. "Chase is here with me, we are both consenting adults, what's he going to do, write 'Alex is a whore' in the boy's bathroom?"

"Alex!" Wilson exclaimed. It was a funny thought, but with House, you never knew. "You are not a whore!"

She smiled. "He's here. I'll call you back." She hung up the phone on the anxious oncologist and glanced at Chase briefly for strength as House limped into the room.

Chase squirmed a little in the bed, trying to find a position in which he looked strong enough to defend her that also didn't hurt too much. "House, I don't think-"

House didn't even glance at him. "Not interested, wombat. This is between me and the kid."

"But-"

This time House did turn to him, giving Alex a momentary respite from the analyzing glare. "Why do you and Wilson feel this constant need to protect her? Do you think she's made of glass? She's put up for 24 years what nearly killed you two in six hours. She made it through med school at eighteen, despite finding her mother's body at the age of sixteen. She spent eight years living alone with a raving psychopath. Do you really think I can do that much damage just talking to her?!" He sighed as Chase shrank back, pale against the sheets. "I told Wilson once that she was the strongest of any of you. This only proves it."

Alex was still basking in the glow of this statement when House focused his attention back on her. "Would you step outside a moment, or should we discuss your sex life in front of Dr. Croc?"

Chase looked mildly offended, so the girl jumped in. "Chase is my best friend, House. He already knows details about it that you will never know."

_That_ was a train of thought House didn't want to pursue, so he shrugged. "Ok. What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Specifically? There were remarkably few coherent thoughts, mostly just 'O, God!' and 'Shit, James, do that again!'"

House, who had thought there was nothing in the world that could embarrass him, considering the comments he threw at Cuddy on a daily basis, paled visibly. There was _so much_ about that image he didn't need. "Okay, let me try again. Why Wilson? If you just needed some comfort, why not pick up some guy in a bar? Why not Chase? Hell, why not Cameron?"

Alex rolled her eyes. First of all, not into girls. Second of all, even if I was, _Cameron_??? Third, does Chase look up for a round of gold-medal-winning gymnastics? And…well…why NOT Wilson?"

Chase had blushed a little at the gymnastics comment, but House didn't even notice. "Why not? Why shouldn't you have a one-night stand with the doctor one office down?!"

Her heart sank. "He said it was a one-night stand?"

House sat down heavily in a chair. Shit! When had he lost control of his department? And more importantly, when had everyone around him gone insane? "It's not a one-night stand? You two are- whatever the current middle-school euphemism is- going together or whatever?"

Alex never backed down, despite the fact that her boss looked at her like she should be chained to a bed on the sixth floor with an IV stream of Thorazine. "We're dating, House. That's what adults do when they like each other. You should try it sometime!"

He grinned slightly. "Nice," he muttered.

She wasn't finished. "We both needed someone last night, and I was willing to accept it for just that, but he wanted more. He wants us to be together. I'm not taking advantage of him with my pitiful, wounded, 'abused-kid' status. He wants this too!"

"This is a bad idea," House warned. "You know his history. He cheats on everyone. Hell, he cheats at poker!" She seemed to actually be listening to his voice of reason, so he went on. "This just can't end well."

Alex regarded him carefully, her blue eyes searching his. "That's why you can't be happy, isn't it? Because you can't get past the fact that it always ends? House, everything ends! Nothing lasts forever. But sometimes, a chance to be happy for a little while comes floating past. You can either take it for what it is, a bright little time-out in life, or ignore it because it can't last forever. I can understand the need not to be hurt, but not at the cost of those few moments of happiness we're all entitled to." He didn't interrupt her, so she took that to mean she was winning. "This may end badly. He may cheat on me. Hell, I might cheat on him. But for now, it makes us both happy. Can you accept that?"

House was searching her eyes fro something, and apparently, he found it, because he stood up and headed for the door. He paused half-way there and turned to her. "Wilson and I have beer and pizza and bad movies planned for tonight."

Taking that as a dismissal, as in 'find your own place to sleep tonight', so she nodded, and went to sit back down across from Chase. He was at the door when he stopped again. "So," he said, "you coming or what?"


	17. Babysitting

Note: Sorry this has taken so long, but school has started back and it has been difficult. But I hope to be back on schedule soon. Please, please, please review! Reviews are as addictive as vicodin, ad I need my fix!

Alex felt her heart fluttering in her chest as she stood outside House's apartment, a six-pack of Smirnoff Ice in her good arm, as Wilson struggled to get his keys out of his pocket to let them in. She opened her mouth to ask if they shouldn't knock when he finally managed to get the key in the lock and open the door. Pausing only a moment, she followed him inside nervously.

It wasn't that she wasn't comfortable with House. She was very comfortable with him, but she was afraid she was crossing the line. This was her boss, a rather cranky, cantankerous person at best, and these had definitely not been the best of days. She had voiced these concerns to Wilson on the way over, and he had smiled at her. "It's House. He doesn't do things for propriety. If he didn't want you there, he wouldn't have invited you."

There was logic in his words, and she relaxed a little, but now she was nervous again. Wilson hobbled over to the couch, and plopped down hard, relieved to have his weight off his arms. They ached worse than his leg did, and he found himself once again with a painful empathy for House. House was sitting in his chair, not his usual place on the couch beside Wilson. Alex put the alcohol in the refrigerator, and she was headed for the couch when House spoke up. "While you're up, bring us cripples some beer. The good stuff, too, not that bitch beer you brought."

While she was trying to determine whether she should take offense to that or not, Wilson spoke up. "House!"

House shrugged innocently. "What? You think my personality is going to change, just because you finally found a girlfriend I can tolerate? You can take it or leave it, she can take it or leave it, and the fact that you're both here indicates you already faced that choice. Now, kid, get us some beer, or I'll make Jimmy get up off his wounded ass and get it."

When it was put that way, she really didn't see any other option. She pulled three bottles out of the fridge, two regular beers for the guys, a Smirnoff Ice for herself, and made her way to the living room. Handing one to House, one to Wilson, and keeping hers, she briefly considered her choice of seating. There was on the couch beside Wilson, or on the piano bench. Unsure how comfortable she or Wilson would be sitting together in front of House, she moved to sit on the bench.

She was sitting down when House cleared his throat. "Can't see the TV from there, kid. And we picked the movie just for you." He held up the case for Tango and Cash, and Alex briefly wondered how he knew her favorite movie. "Now get over here by Wilson. I'm crippled, and I don't need to trip over you two playing footsie across the room."

Wilson dropped his head. He knew House wouldn't be able to resist tormenting them over this. He just hoped Alex would be able to take it. She sat down beside him, and he risked a glance at her. To his surprise, she was smiling. Not her usual sweet, shy smile, but a somewhat frightening look of someone rising to a challenge. Like _House_ rising to a challenge. Oh, this wasn't good. His girlfriend and his best friend were two of a kind, and that would not end well for him.

Just when he was contemplating faking a page to escape in one piece, Alex put a hand on either side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss that made him to dizzy to feel embarrassed that House was watching. By the time she was done, he had forgotten House was there and was ready to rip her clothes off her and have a rerun of the previous night. Instead, she pulled back and smiled sweetly at him. "I guess he's telling us not to hold back on his account.

Wilson's eyes widened, and he shot a glance at House, more a plea for him to stop what was going to be an embarrassing challenge, but House wasn't going to back down that easily. "Hey, this might even be worth getting up to make popcorn for."

Wilson turned back to Alex, hoping to have more luck getting a reprieve from her. He wasn't looking forward to where this seemed to be going, but one or two more of those kisses and he would be helpless, completely at her mercy. Whoever said that God had given men both a brain and a penis, but not enough blood to use both at the same time obviously had James Wilson in mind. Fortunately, Alex had compassion on him. "Nah," she said, without actually backing down from the challenge. "I'm gonna need something stronger than bitch beer if you want live-action porn."

House rolled his eyes. "Drinking that stuff, you can't handle the good stuff!"

Her head jerked up like a puppet on a string, and just like that, a new challenge was issued, one that would be a little less embarrassing. For Wilson, anyway. "I can drink you under the table any day, old man!"

"Alex…" Wilson began, but she held up a hand.

Her eyes never left House's as she spoke. "He thinks I'm a lightweight, just a kid. I don't like being underestimated."

"If I'm wrong, _kid_, you're gonna have to prove yourself. Second cabinet to the right. Choose your weapon."

She hopped up and strode confidently over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Smirnoff 100 proof vodka, then set it down and got out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Placing four shot glasses in her injured hand, she balanced the bottles in her good arm and carried them to the coffee table. She then pushed the table toward House and sat down in the floor and looked at him expectantly.

"Alternate shots?" he asked, and she nodded.

Wilson smiled. "Alex, you may be a kid, but you are definitely not the youngest one here." Both adolescents glared at him, and he shrugged. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. "I'll pour."

He settled himself carefully in the floor beside her, and poured a shot of vodka and a shot of Jack for each of them.

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There was no actual winner, as Wilson declared it a draw when it was clear both then neither of them would give in, and that neither of them could stand on their own. Both bottles were almost empty, and Wilson hated to think how much Alex had drunk. He was used to it from House, but this sweet, innocent kid? Damn.

Being the only sober one, Wilson cleaned up after the impromptu drinking contest. He laid the recliner back and got House a blanket. He was out before Wilson had him covered up. Alex was more difficult, being sprawled out on the floor. In the end, he decided to just get some pillows and make her a bed where she was. He made her as comfortable as he could, then tried to settle himself on the couch. But it just didn't seem right.

Rolling his eyes at how sentimental he was being, and wincing a little at what House would say if he woke up first, he took his pillow and slid down into the floor beside Alex and pulled her close to him.

She stirred slightly, and opened her eyes. "Hey. What are you doing?"

"Didn't feel right sleeping alone."

She smiled, and looked around. "Well, if House is in here, we could always take the bed."

Wilson groaned. "Go to sleep!"

She closed her eyes, and he smiled. God help him, his girlfriend was just like his best friend. And they both needed babysitters!


	18. No guilt, no regrets

Sorry this has taken so long! My muse completely abandoned me, and I had to rework my entire plan for this story on my own. Plus, the EMS world has been so crazy lately, and I have been working over 120 hours a week. Actually working now, rather than sitting around most of the time. I haven't slept in 2 days! But you guys aren't here to listen to me complain or make excuses, so I'll let Alex and Chase take it from here. Please review, even if it's to chew me out for making you wait forever!

Alex stumbled through her shift in the ER, somewhat envying the patient she had treated with a gunshot wound to the head. Her brains weren't _literally_ leaking out of her skull, but she was sure it was a very close thing. It had been a very long time since she had that much alcohol in her system. She knew that she had only kept pace with House under sheer force of will, but what mattered was that she had. Her pride was intact. But damn, was she ever paying for it this morning!

So she hid in Exam 1, hoping no one would notice her and cursing the fact that she even answered her phone this morning. Cuddy had caught her half asleep, and she was very agreeable when she was like that. 'Sure, I can come in. Too bad Jansen's baby is sick. Hope it's not serious. Bye now.' Click. 'Dammit, what the hell did I just agree to?!'

A knock on the door sent a bolt of pain through her head, and she opened her mouth to let loose a stream of insults that would even make House blush, but checked her anger when she saw who had interrupted her. She took in the blond hair framing a bruised face, the careful way he carried himself to avoid disturbing his numerous wounds, and her headache and nausea was forgotten. "Chase!"

She jumped up from her seat and hurried over to him. It was obvious she was about to throw her arms around him, and he braced himself for the pain it would cause his battered body, but she caught herself just in time and wrapped him in a gentle hug that was comforting enough to cancel out any twinges from his wounds. "I'm so glad to see you up and around! You look…" She just couldn't bring herself to say 'better', even though he was more mobile than he had been in the week since the…incident. She hadn't figured out what to call it just yet, even in her own mind, though as a doctor she recognized that as the poor mental health that it was.

"Like I went ten rounds with a rabid kangaroo?" He suggested, exaggerating his accent for the sole purpose of making the girl smile. It worked, she even giggled, but he could see the guilt in her eyes. That just made what he was about to ask of her even worse. But she was his best friend, and one of the few people who had seen the true extent of his wounds. And the only one he could pop in to help with this. And he surely wasn't taking his shirt off for just anyone right now!

He sat down on the exam table. "I need your help."

She got serious really fast. "Anything. You know that."

Looking away, he said, "I really hate to ask you, but I don't want to go to just anybody and I would do it myself but reaching certain ways hurts so…"

Perplexed, she stared at him. "You can always come to me for help. Whatever you need. You could before, but now you've been through hell for me. I owe you so much! Don't hesitate when you need me."

Damn. There was the guilt again. He was a bastard for asking her to do this. But he started unbuttoning his shirt anyways. "Will you take my stitches out?"

She was unfazed by the request, but drew in a sharp breath as he exposed his chest and stomach. The mass of bruises covered from the waistband of his jeans up to meet the ones on his face, and around to both of his sides. Both lacerations and surgical incisions criss-crossed the abused flesh, dozens of stitches were almost hidden in the black-green patches around them. "Oh, God, Chase."

She had seen his injuries immediately afterward, but several days into healing bruises tended to look even more hideous than they did to begin with. He interrupted her staring at his wounds by putting his hand on her face and lifting her chin until her blue eyes met his aqua ones. "No guilt, no regrets. I have none, you shouldn't either."

"But-"

He shook his head firmly. "No. I did what I did as an intelligent, consenting adult, aware of the risks. It didn't go as I planned, because no matter how many jokes House makes along those lines, I am NOT Crocodile Dundee, but none of that was your fault. Now, can you treat me like any other patient, or is this going to tear you up too much?"

It sounded like genuine concern, and it was, but it was also just the tiniest hint of a challenge, and Chase knew that while it was a low tactic, on some level she needed to do this. She needed to see for herself that he was healing, that he would be okay. As a doctor, she was very familiar with the process of healing, the building of new cells in place of the damaged ones, the transformation from a wound to a scab to a scar to new flesh, but she needed to see it in progress on her best friend.

Of course, there was no way she was going to back away from a challenge, especially one that called into question both her medical abilities and her coping skills, so she went to work. However, it was very difficult. It was painful for him, and he refused to allow her to give him lidocaine injections around the sites as she worked on them. ("Come on!" she exclaimed. "After all this, you're still a baby about needles?") He tried his best not to squirm, but every barely-suppressed whimper, every disguised wince shot straight to her heart, and not for the first time, she pondered going to the cemetery, digging up her stepfather, and kicking his dead ass for what he had done to her and her friends.

It took more than an hour, as he had a lot of stitches, but finally she was down to the last set, the surgical ones from his splenectomy. Suddenly, Cuddy burst into the room. "Alex!" she exclaimed, not quite inside, and therefore not noticing that she wasn't alone. "They say you've been hiding in here for almost two hours! If you weren't able to work today, you should have said something earlier, not just hid in a room like House! I expect-oh!"

Cuddy stopped in mid-sentence when she saw not only who the girl was with but what she was doing. "Dr. Chase. I'm terribly sorry to interrupt. I didn't know she was with a…"

"Patient. Alex was taking out my stitches."

Cuddy smiled. "Oh. Well. Carry on then." She started to turn to leave, when she caught a glimpse of the damage that had been done to the Australian doctor. "My God, Chase!"

Chase looked away, and Alex noticed his discomfort and took over the situation in doctor-mode. "He's actually healing quite well. The bruises are progressing normally, and the lacerations are closed off. In a few weeks, it will be completely healed and there should be minimal scarring."

Cuddy looked impressed at the clinical tone Alex managed, even talking about her best friend. "Okay. Sounds like you have this under control. Take all the time you need. But when you're done, there are other patients waiting." She made a quick exit.

Chase and Alex looked at each other for a moment. Finally Chase broke the awkward silence. "She thinks we're sleeping together, you know."

Alex grinned. "Yeah. A lot of people do."

"Does it bother you that they think that?"

He sounded frighteningly like a psychiatrist, and Alex shook her head. "Nope. You?"

"Not me," he said. "But I'm not the one dating someone else here at the hospital."

"Wilson understands. He knows there's nothing more between us."

Chase nodded. "Okay. I just don't want to cause you any trouble. He seems to make you happy."

"He does," she said, gathering up her suture removal kits and generally cleaning up her mess. "Well, I have to go. Patients waiting and all. I get off at seven. Call me and we'll see what we can get into."

"Sounds good," he said, carefully rebuttoning his shirt. He noticed she was watching him with a mixture of sadness, guilt, and pity on her face. "Hey, kid?"

She looked up. "Yeah?"

"Remember, no guilt, no regrets."

She nodded solemnly. "No guilt, no regrets," she echoed.


	19. Confusion

House was thoroughly confused, a very unusual state for him. The light in Wilson's office was on, he could hear him moving around inside, but the door was locked. This was a mystery, and he would solve it however was necessary. In this case, that meant climbing the balcony wall and popping the lock with his Blockbuster membership card. The sight he was greeted with would stick with him for a long time. Wilson was beating up on a stuffed animal.

House crossed the office, still trying to compute the fact that his gentle, composed best friend was unleashing a rain of violence on the oversized blue Care Bear. He cleared his throat, and when Wilson didn't even pause, he spoke. "So, what did the bear do? I need to know if I should defend him or help you beat the stuffing out of it."

Wilson finally paused in his violence to look up. "Go away, House."

His voice was weak, resigned rather than angry, and there were tears in his eyes. "I don't think so," House replied, trying in vain to keep the concern out of his voice. "If you're going to be beating up on innocent toys, I probably shouldn't leave. What if a real person was to walk in? It could get ugly."

Wilson shook his head and turned away from the bear. Resigned, he sighed. "I'm fine. Go away."

Instead, House plopped down in the desk chair and twirled his cane absently. "So…wanna talk about it?"

"No. Get out of my chair. If I can't take out my anger on the stuffed animal, I can take it out on this mountain of paperwork."

"Excuse me?" House exclaimed, waving his cane. "You're really going to run a cripple out of a chair? Not at all like the St. Jimmy I know. Sit over there."

Looking vaguely murderous, he sat back down on the couch. House was watching him, looking like a squirrel trying to figure out how to crack a particularly stubborn walnut. "So," he said again, "wanna talk about it?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. That's your plan? Annoy me? I'm disappointed. Usually you're all 'I have ways of making you talk' and they include things like Chinese water torture-"

"That was just once!" House interrupted.

"-and boiling oil. Is this the best you can do?"

House thought for a minute. "Actually, if you think about it, this has many similarities to Chinese water torture. So…wanna talk about it?" Wilson growled, actually _growled_, and House smirked. "It'll be a lot easier just to tell me. Or I could go interrogate Alex. I'm sure you confided in her…"

Wilson's head jerked up as if on a string, then realized he had been caught. "So…" House mused, rubbing his chin in an exaggerated manner. "It has something to do with Alex. Shall I begin guessing, or are you going to make it easy?"

Wilson slumped back against the back of the couch, and let his head fall into his hands. He no longer had the energy to keep up with House's games. "I saw her and Chase. In the ER. He had his shirt off, she was between his legs, right up against him. And he was whimpering like…like some damn wounded koala or something!"

House's eyes went wide for a moment, then he absorbed the shock. "Why is it that we have to come up with special metaphors for Chase? I mean, just because he's Austrailian doesn't mean we always have to compare him to something Austrailian. You could just say 'whimpering like a puppy' or something domestic."

Wilson shook his head. "Focus, House. Or are you done with the situation just because it's not a mystery anymore? Am I just your patient of the week?" His voice was rising against his will, and he forced himself to shut up. The problem he had wasn't House's fault, for once, and there was no reason to take his anger and hurt out on him.

House actually flinched at the comment, and his voice softened to something almost like empathy. "Of course not, Jimmy. What exactly did you see?"

"I told you what I saw!"

"Did you…interrupt them?"

As the image flashed back through his mind, he closed his eyes against it. "No. They didn't even know I was there. I just opened the door a crack, I was going to pop in and say hi if she wasn't with a patient, and then I saw them and…" He stopped. "I just left them to…whatever."

"So were they actually doing something?"

Wilson shot him a look. "She was between his legs, his shirt was off, and he was whimpering. _Whimpering_, House! Even guys with as questionable masculinity as Chase has don't whine like that for no reason!"

House got to his feet and limped toward the door. "Where are you going?"

House shrugged. "I've got the diagnosis. Now I'm going to fix it."

Wilson watched him walk out, and shook his head. He wasn't going to let House deal with his problem while he sat here and moped? Hell no! He stood up, wondering where Chase would be now.

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The trauma room door slammed open, making a loud enough noise to split Alex's head open, and she put her hands to her temple as her boss stormed into the room. "I was afraid he would hurt you!" He exclaimed. "I thought he would be the one who couldn't be satisfied!"

Alex looked up at him, totally perplexed. "Huh?"

"How could you do that to him? He really cared about you!"

She looked mildly alarmed. Cared about her? The only two people who cared about her were Chase, who she had just seen, and…Wilson. "Do what to him? I don't understand!"

House looked more enraged than she had even seen him. "He saw you, you know."

She racked her brain for what he could have seen. "Saw me what?"

"Saw you…with Chase!"

Oh, shit. Comprehension slowly dawned on her face as the color drained. House took this look as an admission of guilt.

House shook his head, reminding himself that hitting this girl would be a bad idea. How could she do this to Wilson. Although there was a certain irony to the situation…but that was beside the point. His best friend was in pain and his most promising assistant had caused it. Usually he was the one to hurt Wilson; he had never gotten used to handling things when he wasn't to blame.

Alex was still in shock. "House-"

He held up his hand, face turning so red she momentarily worried about his blood pressure. "If the next words out of your mouth are 'I can explain', you're fired."

She turned away, tears blurring her eyes. "But nothing happened! I was just doing my job!"

"Really?" House inquired, relishing the nasty tone his voice had taken on. "I was of the opinion that this hospital hired doctors, not…alternative therapists!" The sarcasm dripped from the words, and there was no doubt in her mind what "alternative therapists" meant.

She turned back to face him, and took a few steps closer. "You think you're so damn brilliant. You want to call me a whore, fine. You want to fire me, fine. Wilson never wants to see me again, fine. But that seems like awful drastic steps to take for an ER doc who was taking out a patient's stitches!" She spun away from him and headed for the trauma room door. "Now, if you have nothing more to say, I assume I should go apartment hunting. It seems you've taught your friend to jump to insane conclusions as well." The door slammed shut behind her, leaving House standing, open-mouthed, as he put the pieces in place in his mind.

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Chase was in the conference room when Wilson came in. He was gathering up his stuff. "Hi, Dr. Wilson. I was just on my way out. Have you seen House?"

Wilson didn't answer, but walked over to Chase. Seeming a little confused at the sudden proximity, Chase looked over at him. "Is there something I can help you with?" That was as far he got before Wilson's fist connected with his jaw.

Chase fell hard, hitting the back of his head on the table. He put his hand to his jaw and said the only thing that came to mind. "What the bloody hell was that for?!"


	20. Finding a missing duckling

A/N: Sorry about the wait, and sorry to end things where I did, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting so long. Enjoy, and please review!

With that, Wilson pounced on the fallen doctor like a Tasmanian devil, thinking that Austrailian metaphors worked for people other than Chase. Before the blond doctor could even raise a hand to defend himself, several more blows followed the one that had floored him. He was only able to curl into a ball to protect his already damaged midsection from the enraged oncologist, unable to even form the words for further inquiry.

Fortunately, the normally kind, gentle man who was attacking him wasn't exactly George Foreman, so by the time to two hands pulled Wilson off him, he was not much worse for wear. He sat up, wiping the trickle of blood from under his nose, and met House's eyes. As he hadn't gotten any answers from Wilson the first time, he addressed the older man that was had his arms locked around Wilson's chest, effectively both preventing him from getting a hold of Chase again and leaning on him to replace the cane he had discarded when he had jumped into the fray. "What in the name of God got into him?!"

House looked from the bleeding doctor trying to get to his feet to the still struggling one in his grip. "He…uh…had some bad information."

Wilson finally pulled loose from House's grip, but instead of laying into Chase again, he spun to face his best friend. "What do you mean bad information? I saw what I saw!"

House bit his lip. "I talked to Alex. Chase, open up you shirt."

Chase looked at him like he had gone insane. "What?! No!"

Irritated, House snapped at him. "This is no time for modesty! Either prove Alex wasn't lying, or he's gonna finish what he started and I won't stop him. That, and I guess someone should go find Alex before she runs away!"

Chase looked at both of them, the back at the ground as he unbuttoned his shirt. Wilson winced involuntarily at the sight and felt slightly guilty at assaulting him again after what he had been through. But it still didn't click. "Ok, House, I'm a bastard for attacking someone who has been beat up so recently. What does that have to do with Alex?"

House rolled his eyes. "Look closer. The stitches are gone. That's all she was doing!"

Wilson shook his head. "I saw them! She was right on top of him, between his legs! I'm a doctor too, and I know you don't have to be that close to take out stitches!"

Chase, finally realizing what was going on, stepped forward. "You do if you have a broken shoulder! She can't move her left arm away from her body! She HAD to be that close, Wilson!"

It slowly sank in, and Wilson dropped his head. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Chase. I just…"

Chase nodded, rubbing his already bruising jaw. "I think I understand. Look, Wilson, Alex is my best friend! The first best friend I ever had. I would NEVER risk for a roll in the sack!" His voice softened. "And you make Alex happy. Why would I risk her getting hurt like that? At least you came to me rather than to Alex."

"Uh… yeah," said House. "About that…"

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"Okay," said House, looking around Wilson's empty apartment. "What now?" The few pitiful possessions Alex had brought with her were gone, as was she.

Wilson sat down hard on the couch and covered his face with his hands. "Shit, shit, shit! House, how could you go to her?"

"I was trying to help!" House exclaimed.

"You never try to help! You just saw someone in pain and wanted to play!"

House winced, but didn't deny it. "Any idea where she would have went?"

Wilson shook his head. "None. If she's not at the hospital, not here, I don't know. When she used to get upset, she'd hide in the ER. Did you page her?"

House nodded. "Twice. No answer."

The room's third occupant cleared his throat. "Um…maybe I should try it. She's not pissed at me. That I know of, anyway."

Getting up quickly, Wilson handed Chase the cordless phone. "Yeah. She might answer you."

He dialed her pager number and entered his cell phone number. Then he looked at his colleagues, not sure what to do or say next. He had no reason to feel guilty. None. He and Alex had done nothing wrong, but he couldn't help but feel guilty. If he hadn't made Alex take his stitches out, even though she couldn't raise her arm, if he hadn't made her get that close in the hospital…if he had just noticed the door open…

They sat in silence for almost twenty minutes, staring at Chase's blackberry on the table. It never so much as beeped. Wilson was beginning to get edgy. "Why won't she answer Chase? I can understand why she wouldn't answer me or House, by why not Chase?"

"Are you really trying?" House demanded to the blonde. "Do you guys have some kind of secret code or something? Let it ring once, hang up and call back and she'll answer or something?"

Wilson actually looked up at that. "My God, House. What are you, twelve?"

Chase tried to fight the grin at the suggestion, as they actually DID have a secret code, but it was for "I'm paging you for a consult, but we'll go play instead." House may act twelve, but sometimes when he and Alex were hanging out they could be very convincing eight-year-olds. "No, House. No secret code to make her appear. But…" He racked his brain. "The only reason I can think of is that she doesn't have her pager on her. And if she doesn't have her pager, or her cell phone, there's only one place she would be."

He stood up and headed for the door. When neither of the others moved, he stopped and looked back. "I said I know where she is! Are you two coming, or am I on my own?"

House and Wilson looked at each other for a split-second, then Wilson jumped to his feet and they followed him.

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"Why are you so sure she's out here?" Wilson asked Chase as they were flying along what could barely be considered a road in Chase's SUV. "I mean, how do you even know about this place?"

Chase rolled his eyes as he drove even farther into Deliverance country. "Alex showed me this place. It's her place to think."

"I thought she went under the stairs to think."

"Only about minor stuff. Serious things require more drastic stuff."

"And you guys say _**I'm**_ twelve?" House spoke up from the back seat. "I don't run off into the woods when someone pisses me off."

"If you did," Wilson put in, "you'd have to build a cabin."

Chase laughed at that, then pulled into the parking lot by the lake. "Look. There's her truck." He pulled in beside the red Nissan Frontier and put it in park. The truck was empty, except for the few Wal-Mart bags that held the clothes and personal items she had taken when she left Wilson's apartment. Chase looked around, scanning until his eyes settled onto the path she had shown him. "We have to walk it from here." He winced. "House…"

"Yeah, yeah," the gruff doctor said. "Not exactly in shape for the marathon hike. I'll wait in case she comes back."

Chase wasn't sure just how good an idea it would be for Alex to come back to her truck and find the person who pissed her off to begin with. But then she worked with House. It may not even surprise her. "This way," he said to Wilson, leading the man who had assaulted him two hours earlier into the woods.


	21. Out of the Woods

A/N: Sorry it has been so long on this, and sorry this is so crappy. I got them in this pot and was waiting for inspiration to hit with a way to get out without geting too sappy, emotional, and OOC, but it just didn't happen. So I finally gave up and decided to push it ahead, for better or worse. So, here it is. I hope it doesn't suck too badly, and I hope to have some more of the story soon. Remember, this chapter serves no purpose other than just to get them out of the woods. Please review and let me know if you guys are still with me!

The path was clearly not intended for nervous oncologists on crutches, and the progress was very slow. He stumbled a few times, but Chase managed to help him stay upright. "You know," the younger man said, catching him for the third time. "I can just got find her and bring her back to you."

Wilson shook his head. "No. I have to go to her."

Chase rolled his eyes. "House is right. You do have a martyr complex. Do you really think she wants you to do something as painful as limping through the woods by flashlight?"

"Do you think I don't deserve it?"

Chase winced. _That_ was a loaded question! This guy had just beat the crap out of him. But still, he had put up with worse than that. This was Wilson, and frankly, he had good reason. Chase hadn't thought of what it might look like when she was taking his stitches out. At least, he hadn't until Cuddy burst in. If Wilson saw what she saw… "No. I don't. You reacted as any creature with a Y chromosome would. Not sure I would have done any different in your place."

Wilson didn't answer, guilt over the misunderstanding eating at him, and Chase kept pace with him with the practiced ease of someone who had done hundreds of walking differentials with House. "Besides, Alex is going to kick my ass for bringing you all the way up here with you hurt."

They came to a grove at the top of the hill. Chase knew the place well, and could practically see Alex sitting on the rock. It was her spot. She probably had her iPod, and maybe tears still drying on her face. He wondered suddenly what House had said to her. "Uh, Wilson, you might want to wait here."

"What? No! I have to go apologize!"

Chase glanced to the clearing. "Look, I know you care about her. But it would be in everyone's best interest for me to talk to her first." Okay, that didn't come out right, and Wilson was looking at him funny. "What I mean is…" He took a breath. "Okay, what I mean is you know when House is acting like- well, like himself, and Cuddy sends you to intercede before someone else shoots him?" Wilson's glare softened into a smirk, so he went on. "What you are to House, I am to Alex."

Wilson had to smile. "So, you're the Alex-whisperer?"

Chase laughed. "Yeah, I guess. You know, Even if I did have a thing for her, you make her happy. I would never interfere with that. I want her to be happy. However, if you hurt her, I'll have to beat you to death with a shovel."

Wilson shrugged. "Fair enough. Uh…next time, right? You aren't going to beat me up now, are you? 'Cause I had no prior warning…"

Chase pretended to consider it. "I guess I can let it slide this time. Now, wait here. We need to make sure she's not going to attack you on sight." He helped Wilson sit down on a fallen tree, then disappeared through the trees into the clearing.

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It was nearly twenty minutes before Chase and Alex appeared back on the path. Wilson could hear them talking before he saw them. "Why do guys always assume the worst, anyway?"

"We don't always. Just when it comes to women." Her giggle was music to his ears. He had expected anger, tears, or other psychological warfare. Letting Chase go in first was definitely the way to go. He made careful note of that for future messes.

He saw them before she saw him, and struggled to his feet. "Alex!" He exclaimed, gobbling toward her. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking. Forgive me?"

She stopped in her tracks and stared at him, then turned to Chase. "You brought him up here?! What were you thinking?!" Chase opened his mouth to defend himself, and Wilson's heart sank. She was still angry. Then she ran to him, still yelling at Chase. "He could have fallen and hurt himself even worse! If he jars that leg again, he may really need the metal rod." She threw her arms around him. "But I'm glad you're here. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking, and I'm sorry you saw what you think you saw and-"

Balancing on his armpits on the crutches, he put his hands on her face and pulled her up for a kiss that removed all doubt as to how he felt. When they parted for air, he stared into her eyes, and Chase was forgotten. "Forgive me?" He asked. She nodded mutely, still stunned by the depth of the kiss.

The moment was almost nauseating, and Chase was afraid if things got any sweeter, he was going to need insulin. He ignored then nonverbal communication for as long as he could stand it, then cleared his throat. "Um, Alex? Did you bring your keys?"

Still transfixed on her boyfriend, she shook her head. "Nope. I left them in the truck. Didn't want them to fall out of my pocket."

"Same here," he said. "So, does it bother anyone else that we left House with both vehicles and both sets of keys? For forty-five minutes?"

Identical looks of apprehension dawned on Wilson and Alex's faces. "I…uh…think we should hurry," Wilson said.


	22. An Interesting Patient

A/N: Just a neat little filler chapter I promised someone. And thanks to Ray for letting me write about one of his most embarrassing runs ever. I personally thought it was hilarious. So, this little exchange actually happened to us in the back of the ambulance. Enjoy...and if you have any thoughts as to where things should go from here, please let me know!

Alex had missed the ER. It was a different world than the Diagnostics department, fast-paced, physical instead of mental. It was where she was at home. Unfortunately, that also meant that she was out of the game while her arm healed. But after two months of wearing the cast and sling, she was finally cleared, and ready to go back.

It had been a long time of healing, but her arm was ok again, Wilson was off his crutches, and Chase's scars had faded to barely noticeable. She and Wilson had settled into a comfortable relationship, but she had gotten her own apartment. The fact that she had never actually been on her own had been the deciding factor, and Wilson and Chase had helped her find a nice apartment, but she still spent as many nights at Wilson's as she did there.

It was her first shift back in the ER, and she was thrilled to be there. As silly as it sounded, she was exhilarated to be able to stitch up the young man's forehead, raising both arms to perform her duty. She tested her range of motion for the millionth time as she stripped off her bloody gloves. It felt good to be whole. And she was talking about more than her arm.

She walked out of the room just in time to see the paramedic crew wheeling in a patient in full spinal immobilization. It was her favorite medic crew, and the girl, Kenzie, waved to her. Her partner, Ray, smiled, effectively looking half his thirty years. "Hey, Alex! Glad to see you're back. All healed up?" He called.

She nodded, walking over to them. "What have we got?"

Kenzie burst out laughing, and Ray turned beet red. "You're going to have fun with this one!" She said, and if possible, Ray turned even redder.

"Don't tell her!" he hissed to his partner. She knew he embarrassed easily, but he looked ready to have a stroke.

Alex raised an eyebrow, and looked questioningly at the younger medic, who finally stopped laughing long enough to give her report. "Approximately 36 year old female unrestrained driver in rollover MVA. Right femur fracture, traction splint applied, possible head injury, pupils equal and reactive."

"She's drunk!" Ray proclaimed, starting to return to his normally pale coloring.

Kenzie looked at Alex. "I didn't smell anything. He just thinks that because she freaked him out."

"What did she do?"

Ray shot his partner a warning look. "Keep your mouth shut, kid! She'll find out." He was starting to turn red again, so Kenzie just smiled. As they took the stretcher into the trauma room, Kenzie leaned over and whispered, "You might want to page your buddy, Dr. Chase. He'll enjoy this one, too."

The paramedics moved the patient on the backboard over onto the bed, and they made a quick exit, Kenzie still giggling, Ray still flushed. Alex shrugged, and paged Chase to trauma room three.

When he got there, she was waiting outside the trauma room. "What's up?" He asked.

"Not really sure," she admitted. "But Ray and Kenzie brought this woman in, Kenzie was laughing her ass off and Ray looked like he was going to have a stroke. She told me I should page you. Said it would be fun."

He shrugged. "Okay. Let's see what they got themselves into."

They went into the room just as the patient yelled, "Hey! Anyone there? Am I going to be on here all day?"

"Ummm," Alex looked at the run sheet. "Maia. I'm Dr. Gray, and this is Dr. Chase. We're going to be your doctors."

"Come over here so I can see you!" The woman demanded, struggling with her cervical immobilization collar.

Chase walked over to the bed and put his hand on the collar. "You need to stop fighting. This is to keep you from injuring yourself further."

She smiled at the blond doctor. "Hey, you're kinda hot!"

Whatever Chase had expected, this was** NOT** it. "Uh…I-" He looked over at Alex. "Let me guess. That's what freaked Ray out?"

Maia looked over where Alex was standing. "He is, isn't he, sweetie. Tell him he's hot."

Alex grinned. "He's adorable. So do you remember what happened?"

She stepped closer, and Maia got a better look at her. "Hey! You're kinda hot too!" She winked at Alex. "Why don't we skip this hospital stuff and you two just go home with me?"

Chase snapped his head up to meet Alex's eyes. She was fighting with everything she had to keep from cracking up. "Well, honey, as tempting as that is, we got this whole broken leg thing to deal with. We'll get some x-rays, and get back with you on that later."

Alex made a quick exit, Chase close behind. They made it to the door before they broke down laughing. "I would say," she said, gasping for air through her laughter, "that **that** would be what freaked Ray out."

That brought a fresh round of giggles. They were almost in the floor when Cameron showed up. "Am I interrupting something?"

That just set them off again. She looked at them like they had lost their minds. "Um…okay. Are the nitrus tanks leaking?" Alex sat down in the floor she was laughing so hard. "Ok, I'm missing the joke. But we do have a patient. House wants me to run a test for SARS."

She turned to walk away, and Alex and Chase looked at each other. "SARS?" Chase said.

Alex pulled herself to her feet. "Go. I got to check out here. And have them run a tox screen on our friend in there. And call Ray. I'll bet him anything the tox screen is clear. Meet you up there." Chase nodded, and turned toward the elevator. Alex called after him, and he stopped. "If you solve this one before I get there, I'll give this woman your number!"


	23. Alex's Secret

I hope this chapter has the effect I had intended. I've been really agonizing as to whether or not to put it in and solidify the direction the story was taking or not, but I finally bit the bullet and committed to this storyline. I hope you enjoy it, and please review.

By the time Alex had gotten a clear tox screen on her ER patient and called to torture one easily embarassed paramedic, House was bordering on livid. "So, Dr. Gray, I see you finally chose to join us. Get tired of the trauma jockeys downstairs, or did they get tired of you?"

"Just had to finish up with my patient."

House frowned. "Your 'patient' has been up here waiting for a superior diagnostician while these two trained monkeys pretend to be doctors. What if he had died while you were down there playing hero?"

Alex snorted as she took her seat. "Like you would really care. It would just irritate you that you didn't get the answer you wanted. Besides, Ray and Kenzie brought this woman in and they gave her to me specifically-"

House rolled his eyes. "Oh, well…I'm sorry. If the para-god squad _specifically_ wanted you, then it must be so. Do the delivery boys know you have a real job, not just their personal Doc?"

Against his better judgment, Chase broke in. "Actually, Kenzie is a girl."

House spun on him. "I _KNOW_ who they are. Damn ambulance cowboys. They think they own the hospital!"

Cameron leaned over to a confused-looking Alex and whispered, "Ray parked the ambulance in his parking spot once."

Alex tried to hide her smirk. "Okay. Anyway…the patient? SARS?"

House turned back to the whiteboard. "Yeah, well, it was a thought. Not a particularly bright one, but Cameron was the only one here who wasn't hiding in the ER. We have a 29 year old male presenting with productive, bloody cough, orthostatic hypotension, and generalized edema."

Alex looked at the whiteboard, studying the symptoms. "Have you considered TB?"

House rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you were above Chase's level. If it was TB, you and the Croc would still be playing trauma jockey, Cameron would still be getting kittens out of trees, and I'd still be watching internet porn."

His eyes bored into her. He was limping more than usual, and Alex could attribute his bad mood to something other than her tardiness. She could sympathize with him being in pain, but his next scathing comment floored her. "I thought you were supposed to be a genius. But considering the genetic material you came from…and the loser that raised you…no wonder your mother gave up!"

Her jaw dropped to her chest, and Chase stood up. "House!"

Alex also rose to her feet, but slower, focused directly on House. "Maybe you're right," she said steadily. "But maybe it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't walked out and abandoned my mother!"

It was suddenly so quiet Cameron would have sworn she could hear the lab rats breathing two floors below. Chase was paralyzed, staring at Alex, unable to process what she had just said. House dropped the marker in his hand as he stared her down. "What are you talking about? If that's something you just said for shock value, it's not bad. You're learning."

"I'm not just saying it. I'm sure you remember, unless you really are as much of a bastard as you act like. Samantha Gray? Ring any bells?"

House suddenly turned very pale, doing the math in his head. No possible way this kid was saying…His mouth went dry, and the world started to spin. "Everybody out!" He demanded in a much steadier tone than he thought he could manage.

Cameron scurried out, not needing further invitation. Chase met Alex's eyes for a moment, looking for some kind of assurance, but when she nodded toward the door, he ran for the hills, too. House retreated into his office, and Alex followed behind him. As he sat down in his chair and noticed he was not alone, he snarled at her. "Did I stutter when I said 'Everyone out'? Maybe accidentally say 'Everyone out without a genetic connection to me'? 'Cause that meant you too!"

Alex tried to keep her voice steady and refused to let herself tremble. She hadn't meant to say that now. Maybe not ever!. But he had said that about her mom, and it just fell out of her mouth. "But I think we need to talk about this…"

"You've been here six months and _**NOW**_ you want to talk about this?!" Tears prickled her eyes, and House softened slightly. "Look, I just found out I have a long-lost daughter. You've obviously had time to process this, maybe you've always known. But don't I deserve a few minutes to think before I have to change your diaper or tuck you in?"

Biting her lip, Alex turned away, still fighting tears. "Go back to the ER," House said, more serious now. "Do your trauma jockey thing. Just don't come back for at least an hour."

But Alex didn't go to the ER, she barely made it to the stairwell before she burst into tears. This was NOT how she wanted him to find out!


	24. Sorting Things Out

A/N: Here's the next chapter...I'm sorry it's been so long and I'm hoping to do better in the future. Please enjoy and review.

As much as House had a flair for drama, he had never resorted to the clichéd paging someone "911". So when he received just such a page, he didn't blow it off as he normally would a page to his office. Not that he would ever ignore a page to a patient's room, but one to House's office usually meant goofing off or somewhat illegal activities. But this time, something was definitely not right.

He pushed the door open and saw House sitting at his desk, with nothing in his hands. No ball, no Game Boy, no PSP. That was not good. "What's wrong?"

House looked up and with a perfectly level voice said "You're sleeping with my daughter. Thought we should have a talk."

Wilson looked at House like he had just declared he was a three-toed squirrel from Mars. "Huh?"

"Turns out twenty-some years ago, I had a relationship. You know how that never works for me? Well, this one didn't either. I left, I never heard from her again, and I especially never knew she was pregnant." He shrugged. "Hey, at least the kid is some kind of genius and not a retard or something, right?"

Now, Wilson had been through so much with House that he thought he was immune to anything that could come out of his mouth. This, however, was one of those moments when his brain just turned to syrup. "Huh??"

House made a face and shook his head. "You mean neither the brainchild nor the Wombat came running to you? I figured your office would be the first stop for at least one of them. I'm disappointed. Alex. You're girlfriend, my trauma jockey wanna-be assistant. Apparently she sprung forth from my loins. Or is it sprang? I'm not really sure."

House was rambling. That either meant he was drunk (which Wilson really didn't think was the case, but anything was possible) or something had hit him that he was trying to process. There was no mistake, this was no joke. He was serious. "Alex is your daughter?"

"According to her. And I did sleep with her mother. Many times over a ten-month period. The timing's right. Of course, I'll want a DNA test before I write her into the will…"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "And leave her what? You're old guitar? Custody of Steve McQueen?"

"Of course not!" House protested. "You know when I die, you get the guitar AND the rat! Maybe the bike…"

Wilson sat down in the chair across from the desk. "So what are you going to do?"

House shrugged. "What is there to do? It's not like she actually needs her diaper changed."

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Wilson had been waiting in the ER for ten minutes when Alex finally got there .She had cleaned up in the ladies room, and only someone who knew her as well as Wilson could tell that she had been crying. She had put on her brave "Tough-as-nails ER doc" front, and was trying to look ready to take on the world. But Wilson saw right through it…The girl was scared. In a way, he understood. She hadn't meant to let her secret out like that. It would change everything.

She showed a lot of restraint, not running to him and hiding in his embrace. But this was a place of business and healing- THEIR place of business and healing- so she calmly walked over to him and in a voice with only a barely noticeable quiver said "Dr. Wilson, that patient is in exam 3."

He followed her to the last room on the left, as she sat down heavily. "I've really done it now, haven't I?"

Opening his mouth, forgetting to speak, and closing it again, Wilson searched for the right thing to say. Unfortunately, there was no right thing to say. "Alex, why didn't you tell me?"

She met his eyes. "I thought he had a right to know before anyone else did. There was just never a right time to tell him, and he was more irritated than usual, and he was tearing me and Chase apart, then started on Ray and Kenzie, and my mouth just went off on its own. I just wanted to shut him up." She managed a cynical smile that looked so much like House that he wondered why no one had seen it before. "I guess it worked."

He pulled her close and held her. "It's going to be alright. No matter what happens, okay?" She nodded against his chest. "Now, let's go back up there."

Alex pulled back and shook her head. "No way! He told me not to come back for at least an hour."

"He tell you that in the last five minutes?"

"No."

Wilson held up his pager, letting Alex read the message. FIND HOUSE JR. BRING HER BACK NOW. "I think that's the more recent summons, don't you?"

She nodded. "Okay. Time to face the firing squad." He winced, wishing there was a way to make this easier. But of course, he spent most of his life trying to make impossible situations easier on people. It was usually impossible.

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Wilson tried to shield Alex as she entered the office, as if House was going to shoot flaming arrows at her or something, but she would have none of it. She had made this mess and she wasn't going to let someone take the heat for her. She stood up a little straighter and eased past him to stand in front of the desk. "I…that is…uh-Wilson said you wanted to see me…"

House didn't seem to know what to say either. After a few minutes of excruciating silence, finally House spoke up. "Wilson, go get a swab. I want a DNA test."

"House!"

"Don't bother," Alex said, her voice equally harsh. "The results are in my bag. I had one done my first week here. It's definite."

"Where'd you get-"

"Empty soda can on your desk."

"Oh."

Alex sat down in the chair. "Want me to go get the test results? They're right in the next room."

"You carry them around in your bag? Just when were you planning on telling me?"

"I don't know if I ever was. I just…"

"Just what? Just wanted to hang on to this information until I was on my death bed? Or until I got pissed and fired you? Or when it would do you the most good? What are you really doing here, Alex?"

She jumped to her feet. "I resent that! I had no agenda! I just wanted to meet my father, and work with the best diagnostician in the country. I thought maybe I could learn a few things. Instead, all I learned was how to be a smart-aleck and that maybe I was better off with the father I had!"

"Oh, the Neanderthal that broke your arm and drove your mom to suicide? Yeah, there's a great influence. Someone to teach you how to keep a trailer presentable and shop at Kmart? How to crush a beer can with one hand?"

She looked at him. "You taught me to crush a beer can!"

"I-" House was cut off by a shrill whistle. They both turned to face Wilson who was sitting in a chair.

"Okay. Now, since you two can't seem to talk to each other, talk to me. Alex, what do you want?"

She looked down at her beat-up Nikes. One string was untied. "I want to go back in time and keep my big mouth shut."

"Okay. Not an option. House, what are you so afraid of?"

House stuck out his lower lip. "I'm afraid I won't measure up to the impossible standards of a single father."

Wilson sighed. "How did we not know you two were related? Ok, lets start again. Alex, what do you want out of this?"

Looking at Wilson, she began "I want-" she shook her head. "This is stupid." She turned back to House. "All I want is for things to go back to the way they were. As a girl, I wanted to meet my father. As a doctor, I wanted to meet Greg House. I want things to be like they were. I don't expect to be treated any different. It doesn't matter. You didn't raise me, I'm still just one of your team and your best friend's girlfriend. Nothing is different."

House studied her carefully, looking for any sign of deceit. Finally, seeing nothing but hurt and open sincerity, he nodded. "Ok, kid. Maybe we can give this whole me being your father thing a try."

Her eyes widened. "Really? You mean we're okay? You're not mad?"

House shrugged. "Hey, if you can forgive me abandoning you and your mom to that creature, I can forgive you blurting it out in front of the whole team."

She got up from the chair and went around the desk. For a horrifying second, House thought she was going to hug him. But she knew better, and stuck out her hand. House grinned broadly and shook it. Wilson just shook his head. This was surreal.

"So," Alex said, "everything's okay?"

Before House could answer, his door slammed open. "It most certainly is not okay! Dr. Gray, we need to have a long talk about many issues, and at the least of things, you can not continue to work for House!"


	25. Trauma Jockey

Author's note: I know you guys thought I had fallen off the face of the Earth. I know it has been a million years since I updated and I am so sorry. This story just completely abandoned me. I only have a few more things to say in this and I will not leave it off abruptly like I did "The New Squint". I fully intent to finish it, probably in th next few chapters. If anyone is still reading this, please review and let me know. Thanks for your patience:)

Three surprised doctors turned to face Lisa Cuddy as she stormed into the office. "Dr. Gray, why did you not tell anyone that you were House's daughter?"

Alex shrugged, trying to shove away a million emotions. "Have you ever had a conversation with the man?"

"Don't be a smart-aleck, Alex, this is serious! Having blood relatives in direct supervisory positions over each other is a serious violation of hospital policy! This should not have happened."

Alex stood at attention, ready to take whatever attack was about to come. "So, I assume I'm fired?"

Cuddy winced, looking from Wilson to Alex, then finally to House. "I don't want to fire you, Alex. But I have Cameron rushing into my office yelling about you blaming House for your mother's suicide or something in front of several members of the board. I finally had to find a very shell-shocked Chase in the clinic to find out what really happened. And you know very well how rumors spread around here. The entire hospital will know by the end of the day."

Wilson spoke up quickly. "She can work for me."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "And just which part of you anatomy came up with that plan? What use does an oncologist have for a trauma specialist?"

"But I-"

She held up a hand. "Relax, all of you. Alex, you're not fired. I never said you were. I just said you couldn't continue to work for House. And as good a diagnostician as you may be, this isn't where you belong." Alex's eyes lit up as she realized what Cuddy was saying. "It just so happens we have a full-time spot opening up in the ER. You interested?"

"I-uh-"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "It's a simple question, Alex. Transfer, or clean out your locker."

"Um, yeah, ok."

Cuddy softened. "I'm sorry to have to do this. And there is no reason why you can't… consult… when they need you."

Alex nodded, warming to the idea. "Yeah. I could work full time in the ER. But…" She turned to House questioningly.

He shrugged. "We'll survive without ya, kid. Go play trauma jockey. It's where you belong anyway." He stood, nodded to Wilson. "Lunch?"

Wilson looked at him like he had lost his mind, then glanced back to Alex. The kid was borderlining on a major league freak-out and House wanted him to abandon her? And… House's daughter? And… Ok, so maybe he was also borderlining on a freak-out. Maybe not major league, but at least at the top of the minors. But Alex managed a small smile at him and motioned for him to join House. "Um… Okay. But you're buying."

House turned to face him and put on his most hurt face. "I just lost my star employee. You should be consoling me!" Wilson didn't fall for it, still meeting his eyes with an expression that clearly said _Oh, please…_. Trying again, House said, "I just found out I have a kid! I think that at least deserves a congratulatory lunch!" Wilson smirked. "Oh, well. Worth a try."

Alex turned to Cuddy, unsure what the next move was. And how pissed she was. Answering both unspoken questions with a smile, she said "You start in the ER tomorrow at 8. Schedule is posted, you're taking over Dr. Adams' schedule." She nodded, mentally noting that she would have to get some more scrubs if she was working down there full-time, not noticing that Cuddy slipped past the men and out the door.

Her musings were interrupted by House. "Hey, Junior! You coming?"

Eyes widened. House still wanted her to join them? Nodding rapidly, she picked up her bag. As they started out the door, she heard House whisper loudly to Wilson. "Her father's a doctor… _She's_ buying!"


End file.
